Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse)

by Melissa Bitter

  “But you don’t need wood to–”

  “You will first learn to control fire using wood. Now, you will need logs that are twice the size of your forearm.”

  “Yes, my Lord.” Morian turned toward the small grove of trees and stopped when Master Zithrien added.

  “Fire is a dangerous thing, my young apprentice. It can be a good friend or a dangerous foe. I would that you could see that it takes much learning and study to master all of its facets.”

  “Yes, Master Zithrien.” He bowed and left quickly. The flash of concern and frown that descended upon the old man’s face barely registered in the back of his mind. The old man was always holding him back, always slowing him down. He didn’t understand. Merryn had already mastered fire and took every opportunity to let him know that she knew something he didn’t. It was always, “Look at this new spell I’ve learned,” or “You haven’t learned that yet?” Well, before the day was over he was going to call a fire she wouldn’t be able to laugh at anymore.

  Trees were scarce here in the plains; the only wood source for the village was a small cultivated grove filled with quickly growing trees. Master Zithrien’s strictures echoed in his head as he searched for dead growth. “Look for dead wood. It cannot have any moisture in it, otherwise it will smoke, not burn.”

  “What does he know, the old windbag.” Morian spied a perfect tree lying on the ground. Excitement leapt within him before dying a sudden death when he got a closer look. Half of the tree was submerged in drying mud. “Just my luck!” He kicked the trunk and prepared to move on when the most brilliant idea came to his mind.

  He tugged the small tree away from the muck and brushed as much mud as he could off of it. Then he sent a drying spell into the wood, chasing away any and all water he could find. When he finished, perfectly seasoned, dry wood sat in front of him. “He’ll never know.” Morian’s lips curled upward in a gleeful smile at the thought that he was going to fool the old Master.

  Maybe, just maybe he’d get to eat lunch today. Morian cut the log into pieces using the saw from his pack, then tied the logs together with a cord.

  The bundle was heavy and sweat was steadily trickling down his back by the time he’d trudged across the grassland separating the village from the grove of trees. The sun beat down upon his head and dust blew in the air choking him. He felt parched. Morian dumped the logs beside the fire pit, wiped the sweat from his forehead with a gritty arm, and asked Master Zithrien, “Will these do?”

  The young apprentice watched the old Master’s face intently as the Master looked at the logs. Unease soured his stomach as one eyebrow went up and then the other.

  “You used a spell to dry the logs?”

  He didn’t know what to say. He considered lying, then managed to nod his head. After a moment, the old man’s eyebrows descended, and the young apprentice felt somewhat safer. He vowed then and there to never take another shortcut again wherever the old man was concerned.

  Master Zithrien finally spoke, “Use a few of your logs and restack your pile of wood, then leave the rest to the side for later.”

  It wasn’t long before Morian had mastered the basics of making and putting out fire and was feeling better about himself. Master Zithrien had even relaxed his stance a bit.

  The sun beat down upon them both, but still the young man was happy because he was making fire. He let the fire leap a little higher, enjoying the way the red flames licked the logs. He didn’t know why the old man was so concerned. Why, there was nothing to it.

  “Smaller!”

  The command broke into his thoughts and he jumped. He’d forgotten the imposing guard who stood over him. “But it’s so easy, I–”

  “But can you control even the smallest bits of it? The smallest and largest fires take the greatest skill and strength. We start out with the small, yes?”

  Always the small, the tiny, the little steps. Why not the big? If it took the same amount of skill, why couldn’t he try with the larger fires? He caught sight of Merryn as he reached over to grab another log to place on the fire. She stood smirking at him from between two shops twenty paces away. When she saw him look up, she held up her hand and a blue flame sprung to life, hovering above her palm before winking out. It was a level five fire spell.

  She’d never stop, would she! He’d show her. Now knowing what to do, he pulled at the Energy within himself and called for a fire that would guarantee her respect for the rest of his life.

  “Morian! No!” Master Zithrien’s shout came from somewhere beside him.

  He would show them both; he knew what he was doing. Morian raised his arms to the sky and called forth fire to burn the logs that lay stacked neatly to the side of his pit.

  But something went wrong.

  Terribly wrong.

  The power within him connected with the dry heat laying heavy in the valley and the scorching heat from the sun. The Energy within him took on a life of its own and jumped around lively. Instead of the bonfire he’d intended, the skies rained fire and it wouldn’t listen to him. He couldn’t stop it. The houses caught fire; Merryn’s face melted underneath her flaming hair. He doubted he’d ever forget the sight.

  He turned to Master Zithrien confused and afraid. The old man spared no thought for him, trying with his might to control the inferno Morian had called while shielding the remaining survivors in the village.

  The old Master collapsed. Morian alone survived.

  The plains burned for days.

  Everything was destroyed that day except for himself, and even that was debatable. He wandered alone for hundreds of years, always running from a terrible horror he couldn’t escape.

  Analindë stared numbly down at her hands, surprised not to see the ash-blackened masculine hands from a moment ago. She blinked rapidly, her eyes had filled with tears. She heaved a breath and then backed away from the chest. The room was cold; she shivered, no longer feeling the dry heat of summer. She felt tired, hollow. An emptiness greater than she’d felt before filled her and she wondered how long the memory would haunt her. It took awhile to remember that she was herself, not the elven boy who had become impatient with his teacher and been goaded to recklessness.

  This time Analindë took time in answering. She was not quite sure what Master Donarion wanted to hear. How was she to explain the travesty that had befallen the young elve, his loved ones and friends?

  «The young student pushed himself too fast and too quickly, but for all the wrong reasons, first out of laziness and impatience, and second to compete against another elve his age. His rash actions destroyed all the structures and caused the death of his mentor, his family, his neighbors, and every living plant and animal in the entire village by incinerating them where they stood. He was burdened by tremendous guilt and was never able to reach his potential in life.»

  «Very good. Now answer me this. What are they together?» He asked as he pulled the lid to the third box shut. The taste and smell of ashes quickly receded from the room.

  Together? What did he mean? Why was he asking? What did he want? It had to be some sort of test, just like the games she had played with her mother. To give herself time to think, Analindë studied the wooden planks beneath her feet. They were well cared for and expertly laid. She looked over at the chests once more. They had been lovingly assembled. Nature had been captured in their making. Graceful whorls in the wood were polished; hinges and locks echoed the curling patterns and had been brushed to a soft hue. She thought past the closed lids and locks to their contents. The golden ball of immense power, the nascent seed, and the charred length of wood. Her thoughts circled the three concepts, searching for links and commonalities. Her mind prowled, tying them together until they formed a basic concept.

  «Together they are a test, a measure of one’s strengths and weakness, the ability to analyze, deduce, and act. To see clearly and move forward with caution.» She spoke softly, still staring at the chests. «There are rules and consequences, and in the natural wor
ld, oft times the outcome of breaking a rule can be dire.» She rolled her shoulders back, then looked to the awakening stars in Master Donarion’s eyes. The patterns they wove were unknown to her. «The basic lessons one can learn are to be patient and to look past the surface of things for the potential to what could be, and to the various possibilities that can follow, and to be wary of greed and the draw that comes from a source of great power. But mostly, not to underestimate the strengths within ourselves.» She studied the stars in his eyes. She saw a flicker of interest and approval in the patterns they wove, which gave her enough courage to ask, «How did I fare?»

  «You did well. Of course I would expect nothing less from a Mage of Lindënolwë; they have always been known for their intelligence and strength. You saw and felt more than most.» He nodded to himself, thinking deep thoughts that she couldn’t read in his eyes. Analindë squirmed as she did each time someone mentioned the greatness of her ancestors and the implied expectations for her to live up to them. Other people’s thoughts of what she should one day become usually induced a tiresome burden of weight to settle around her shoulders, weighing her down. This instance was no different. She wanted to chart her own course and not be driven toward some pre-determined destiny. She wanted to live a quiet life like the one she’d had back home. Then she remembered that right now home would be a little too quiet. Her heart clenched, her mind stilled.

  «Now come and see.» Master Donarion’s voice broke through her morose thoughts. He stood at the far side of the room, but she hadn’t seen him move. «Never speak to others of what you find here, except to those who have also found this place.» She ambled toward him and nodded her compliance, then felt a swath of Energy move through her, locking something in place. She shivered. Her nod, although nonverbal, had been binding.

  «This place, it’s where it all began isn’t it? The first room of Mirëdell,» said Analindë as she gestured to the simple room around them.

  Master Donarion shuddered. She glanced at the chest holding the charred bit of wood and blanched. To the keeper of this place, what might the room whisper and what other memories might this room hold?

  «Yes, this is the place. They lived in terrible times back then and needed a safe place to hide. Mirëdell became a haven for all those who sought peace and eventually became a place to learn.» He turned toward a door that had not been there a moment before. He opened it and said, «Come.»

  The Fourteenth Chapter

  SHE FOLLOWED MASTER DONARION THROUGH the door and down a winding staircase that was cut out of solid rock. The air thickened with age the further they descended, and a sense of being weighed and measured in some manner swirled around and through her. It was an odd sensation. She felt open, vulnerable, as if all the private thoughts she kept hidden deep inside were suddenly out and being evaluated. She didn’t like it.

  The stairs ended abruptly. The only way out was back up the stairs. Master Donarion studied her for a moment, face blank, then turned and walked through the rock wall in front of them. Analindë gaped and took a few steps back; had the keeper really just walked through solid rock? Then she remembered that they were both wisps of self. They could pass through just about anything.

  With trepidation for what might be on the other side, Analindë pressed up against the barrier. Cold rough stone pressed against her palms briefly; then she felt herself dematerialize. Moments later she followed him through the wall. Yet through was not quite accurate. Into the bedrock of the mountain would have been more precise.

  She followed him through the rock until a short path of sorts opened up around them. A few more steps and they reached a narrow peninsula jutting out into an ocean of reddish-black Energy so great she couldn’t measure it. «What is this place?» She asked as they continued to walk. The power glistened as it lapped in small waves. Glowing softly, it illuminated the ceiling above them and the path they trod.

  «Mirëdell’s source.»

  «But how?» She twitched her skirts in place to cover her embarrassment when she realized she’d been swinging her head back and forth, gawking like a child at a fair. Master Donarion either hadn’t noticed or had decided not to notice. She hoped for the former.

  «When this haven was established, the founders knew that they would need power. And that they would need to hide and protect it from those who would have used it to destroy them. The founders wove a spell of hiding so strong that no enemy has yet found the source. It draws the earth’s energies to itself slowly, a trickle at a time.

  «See how it in turn feeds Mirëdell?»

  Analindë looked up, following the tendril of Energy that Master Donarion sent out. She saw how Energy flowed—with no discernible trace—into the very foundation of the school, giving power to the walls and strengthening defenses. She looked to the outer curtain walls . . . impenetrable.

  She’d studied those very walls, in detail, just a short while ago. «I would have never noticed had you not shown me.»

  «That was the founder’s intent; you can feel it if you are very still.» He looked at her questioningly.

  Analindë focused her mind, listening. A deep song filled her mind, but there were no words. It reminded her of . . . something she could not name. It felt masculine and strong, of a ruthless protection distilled over time with age and wisdom. After a long while the nuances finally came. There was a sense of urgency, some fear. Never be found, except by us. Don’t be detected, except by us. Draw the energies to yourself. Protect Mirëdell. Store your energies for our time of need. In turn, we will guard and protect you.

  Shocked, she blinked her eyes open, «It’s alive?»

  «Yes, in a manner of speaking all energies are, but this one more so than others.»

  «Their intent gave it life. They were afraid and were hurrying.»

  «They lived in troubled times. And yes, Analindë, their intent did just that, gave the source life. You are a quick study.»

  «Thank you, Master Donarion. If I am, then I owe it to my mother.» She shuffled in place for a moment thinking of the family discussions she’d had most winter evenings and the puzzles her mother constantly gave her, then added, «Much has changed over the past several weeks. Most times, I just find things a bit frightening.»

  «Yes, it would be. Take comfort in knowing that because you have access to your source, you see more clearly. Because it grew so quickly, you then also were able to see and understand so much faster.» His words surprised her; she didn’t think she’d have ever arrived at that conclusion. He stared at her intently. «I have read that oft were the times when mages came quickly into their power such as you. To do so without the chance of harm is a technique that has been lost. Analindë, with such great power comes responsibility. You found your way to me, as few others do these days.» He looked troubled. «Since the founding of Mirëdell, those who come are tested, weighed and measured. Those who come and pass are granted access to the source, but in return the source must be safeguarded from all harm that may come upon it. It is the vow we have sworn.

  «Will you accept?»

  «Yes, I do.» The something inside her that had earlier locked in place ratcheted tighter then became solid, impenetrable, immovable. Another binding?

  Analindë let the thought slip away and gazed around in awe as Mirëdell’s source surged up around her. The exhilarating power rushed past her and part of her trilled in excitement; fine particles misted in the air. The sensation of being weighed and measured started again; this time she recognized it as coming from the source. It was more intense this time, excruciatingly so. Every little particle of every little item within her felt like it was being opened up, shaken a little bit this way and that, and then set back down. After what felt like centuries later, waves of power curled around and enveloped her in a firm hold.

  «Welcome, young one.» A voice old with age spoke to her, and then the power slipped away.

  Surprised, Analindë looked to Master Donarion, «Was that–»

  «Yes, Mirëdell’s
Source has approved you. Analindë, you may now count this place a safe haven. If ever you are in trouble or seek shelter, come here. You may also return to seek council and guidance, although Mages have their own havens and Stone Masters usually are the only ones that come here. You are welcome the same.»

  «Thank you Master Donarion.»

  «Now go. Learn, and do so quickly. Such is your responsibility. Power such as yours should not be unfettered and left to wander.» He looked at her grimly.

  «I will try the best I can.»

  «Good. I see the ordeals of the past few weeks have drained you. Extend your hand and ask, if your intent is good; the source will assist.» Unfettered and left to wander? She was puzzled at his words; what could he mean? And then she realized what he had just said about asking for assistance.

  Analindë looked into the aged Master’s eyes, searching for truth or reassurance. Again, she found nothing. Could it hurt for him to give her a little guidance? She pushed the thought away. His face and eyes were a mask she could not read. He simply waited to see how she’d act, standing by to pass judgment.

  Analindë wiped her sweaty palms against her skirts, unsure of what to do next. She thought of the glacier lake and how it had offered assistance. And then there was that taste of freedom that the mountain breeze had given her. She gripped her hands together, let go, and then reached out to touch the glistening power circling around them. It was a beautiful deep rich red bordering on black; it sparked as it moved.

  Please. The source latched onto her hand at the word. I am willing but lack the strength to learn quickly. Will you help? She thought.

  The source answered her by drawing her into his thoughts and showing her his world. They traveled to the depths of the earth where the ground burned a molten red. She saw heat and energies; how they flowed, the movement of the earth around its axis. They traveled to the outer crust of the earth where things had cooled and the energies moved more slowly, trickling down from above. He showed her how and why earthquakes happened and the massive amounts of power generated when they were triggered. She saw sparkling red energies merge with brilliant browns, greens, blues and golds. And at last she saw the gentle growing energies flow downward from the trees and plants into the core of the earth below. Energies continually cycling at various rates, mighty energies erupted outward from the world’s core while tame gentle energies flowed downward from the growing and living things above.