“Then your training has been incomplete,” Vincent said. Falric nodded.
“Perhaps. Well, I must say I doubt that he will find what he needs without coming here, based on what you have said. I am glad that we will be reunited.”
“We could take the information to him?” Celes said. Falric shook his head.
“Telling him details is not the answer. He needs to understand it all, together.”
“Then come with us. You can help him,” Vincent said.
“No, this is not a matter we can just wave away. Alrion needs to continue the journey to learn the answers he seeks. There are no shortcuts. That’s a primary rule.” Falric closed his eyes and looked deep in thought.
“Take me to the Pool then. I’ll learn what needs to be done and assist.” Vincent stood and stared at Falric defiantly. Falric cowered back quickly but regained his composure.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Caleb?”
“Yes, as Falric said. The Pool has been closed off and no further access is allowed.”
“Surely we can discuss…”
“And only a wizard can properly incorporate and use the information that Alrion seeks,” Falric said. Celes placed her hand on Vincent’s and he sat back down.
“We just want to help our son. Surely we can do something?” Celes said.
“You can start by telling me everything that has happened. I may have some ideas on how to help Alrion once I know the full details.”
“You should find yourself a chair,” Vincent said to Caleb.
Vincent sighed and looked over at Celes.
“That’s it all, isn’t it?”
“Yes, now you know everything, Falric.” Celes picked at a leftover scrap of bread. Caleb had disappeared and brought food on two different occasions while they spoke.
“There’s one thing I can’t figure out. This wizard who has been helping Alrion. It doesn’t make sense,” Falric said.
“What doesn’t make sense?” Celes said.
“You need to come into contact with that magical notebook to send messages. It should be obvious, then, who you have come into contact with.” Falric paused, deep in thought.
“Those messages started after the Pool of Knowledge, correct?”
“To the best of my knowledge. We haven’t really spoken at length about it,” Vincent said.
“There’s a Wizard Store near here. Because of its location, it has some additional security. All wizards who visit must provide a name which is recorded in a book. We may find some clues there.” Falric eased himself out of the chair and straightened out.
“Right, let’s go then.” Falric started walking off.
“Is this really the most important thing we could be doing?” Vincent jumped out of his chair and almost knocked it over.
“Yes, this is at the heart of it all. Caleb, you can join us.”
“It would be an honour.” Caleb gave a short bow. Vincent pulled him aside.
“Look, even if I can’t get access you need to explain more about the Pool, so I can help my son.”
“Of course. That is within my power and I will happily so do.”
“Good. Thanks.” Vincent rushed to catch up with Falric and Celes.
They emerged into the night air, the slight chill surprising Vincent. Falric walked with an almost fevered pace. He led them through buildings until they came to a run-down shed.
“This is it?” Celes said.
“Of course. Hiding in plain sight.” Falric walked up to the door and knocked three times. After a bell sounded, he said, “Falric.” After a few moments, the door unlocked and Falric opened it.
“Let’s go.” Falric ushered them in and close the door. The Wizard Store was quite small. There was a corner with clothing and travelling supplies. But the rest was filled with books.
“Seems fitting,” Vincent said.
“What’s that?” Falric asked.
“The store here in the scholar’s town is full of books.”
“These are the recordings of those who have studied or experienced the Pool of Knowledge.”
“Good to know.” Vincent started browsing the shelves. Falric walked to a bench set in to one of the walls and unlocked something underneath. He pulled out a dusty book.
“Come over and look at this.” Vincent closed the book he had opened and walked over. Celes was already there hovering over Falric’s shoulder.
“Now, see here is the entry that we just created.” Falric pointed to a space in the book. The word ‘Falric’ was written in script with the date.
“That’s quite impressive!” Celes slapped Falric lightly on the back.
“I’m afraid this was Granthion’s doing. I know enough to maintain it, but the exact way it was created escapes me. I suppose with sufficient study I could recreate it, but never felt the need.” Falric started paging through the book.
“Obviously, all the recent entries are me. Here, it should be around this time.” Falric ran his fingers over the page.
“This one is me. And above it are…”
“Branthor. And Aydan?” Celes said with surprise.
“Branthor didn’t even try to hide his identity. Not that it would be easy, and I suppose he had already dealt with me.”
“And the other name? Is it familiar?” Vincent said.
“It’s an odd one. It’s in the old language. Nobody uses it now, except scholars. Or wizards.”
“What’s it mean?” Celes asked.
“Lost One,” Caleb said. Celes spun quickly to face the scholar.
“I learned the language as part of my training. I’m no wizard, Falric can attest to that.” Caleb held his hands up and chuckled.
“This may just be the clue we need,” Falric pondered.
“Do you believe it’s a real name?” Vincent said.
“It needs to be. Well, actually not explicitly.” Falric paused and gathered his thoughts. “It needs to be a name that the person believes is true. I suppose an alias could fit if it was used for a long time.”
“And it has to be a wizard?” Celes asked.
“Yes, absolutely. No way around that. Aydan it is then. Now we need to find the man behind the name.” Falric walked away from the book. Vincent leaned over and observed the script himself, then he closed the book.
“Any other mysteries in here we should be aware of?” he said. Falric didn’t hear, he was already poring through another book.
“Maybe we can find something here ourselves,” Celes whispered in Vincent’s ear. He nodded and strode over to select another book.
21
The Right Way
Branthor closed the door, the creaking sound annoying him. He surveyed the room and gave a satisfied nod.
This will do. The kid actually pulled it off.
Fermur was seated on a wooden chair in the middle of the room. He was chained up and immobile and quiet.
“Are you sure I can’t fully encase him in stone? We only need his head,” Branthor said. Alrion glared at him.
“This is sufficient. He knows that he’s in our custody.” Alrion made eye contact with Fermur and the general nodded weakly. Lara hovered nearby, checking the strength of the restraints.
“Fine, fine. Now, I got us this opportunity. What are we doing with it?” Branthor started pacing the room.
“We achieved this, and we’re going to ask Fermur some questions.” Alrion dragged over another wooden chair and sat in front of Fermur.
“We’re not monsters,” Alrion glanced over at Branthor, “well, most of us aren’t. Please cooperate and tell us what we need to know. Where is Rindale?”
“I can’t tell you,” Fermur almost whispered. His voice had lost its confidence and strength.
“Can’t or won’t?” Branthor added.
“I cannot betray them. It is impossible.”
“Would you? If it were possible?” Alrion leaned in.
“I’m not sure. It’s not the answer you want, but it’s the tru
th.” Fermur shuffled against the chains, clearly uncomfortable.
“He’s too conditioned. We can’t trust what he says.” Branthor grew irritated and sent a pile of dust flying under the door.
“We have to try. What was the point of capturing him anyway?” Lara walked up to Branthor.
“There was always a chance he would talk. But if not, he’s leverage. They will want him back. Or we could just remove him now, save everyone the trouble.” Branthor grinned. He knew it wouldn’t win them over, but he enjoyed their annoyance and disgust too much. Although, he did notice a serious look from the weapons master.
She’s on my side. She’s experienced it as I have. There can be no middle ground, no quarter. Since she understands, this may go well.
“Absolutely not. We need to figure out a way to get the information safely. I’m not like them, or you.” Alrion pointed a finger at Branthor.
“As you wish. I’m just pointing out the inevitable conclusion to this affair.” Branthor walked back and leaned against the wall.
Time will bring them around. They won’t get anything from that creature.
“We need to think about how to release him from whatever restriction is holding his tongue.” Alrion stood quickly and moved the chair away.
“You could cure him, wouldn’t that do it?” Lara said.
“Possibly. Alyx, do you remember much of what you experienced before you were cured?”
“Not much. What little I do remember, I think was because they allowed me more consciousness.”
“True.” Alrion turned to Fermur. “Didn’t you say that when you were transformed you were allowed to keep your personality?”
“Yes.”
“That would suggest that he’s conscious of his thoughts and actions and would more likely retain them. Don’t you remember everything?” Alrion turned to Branthor.
“Don’t compare me to that!” Branthor dismissed Fermur with a hand gesture.
“Alyx?”
“I can’t offer anything concrete supporting this course of action. It may work, it may not.” Alyx spoke with no emotion, her voice flat.
“You would treat this monster with humanity? He’s no longer human.” Branthor spat on the ground. Fermur remained still, his head bowed. Alrion walked up to Branthor and looked him in the eye.
Kid’s got some steel in him. Good.
“I don’t think there’s anything you can say that can sway me from this. He will be removed as a tool of the Blight, and he may offer the information we need. But he is not a tool to be used. That makes us the same as them.” Alrion kept a steady gaze on Branthor.
“It’s your show.” Branthor backed away a little. “I’m just offering the voice of reason. Just because you return him from being a monster, doesn’t mean it’s permanent. There’s every chance he will get recaptured and reconverted.”
“A risk worth taking. It’s the right thing, and soon enough everyone will be cured.” Alrion glared at Branthor. The older wizard chuckled.
“Be my guest.” Branthor gave them space and observed. Alrion walked up to Fermur slowly.
“Is there anything I should know before we try this?”
“Does it really work?”
“Ask them. They’re living proof.” Alrion pointed to Alyx and Branthor.
“That one’s still quite mad, I think you made a mistake.” Fermur pointed to Branthor and Alrion laughed. Fermur had managed a wry grin.
“No, I think unfortunately that’s just how he is.”
“You’re welcome!” Branthor shouted out. He hung back and let the young wizard work.
It will be interesting to observe this process.
Alrion closed his eyes and went still. Branthor monitored the wizard, watching and waiting. He noticed Alrion gathering his Spark. He was forming it into some sort of spell. But it was a nothing spell, not special in any way.
Maybe you do need those Mystics to make it work.
Fermur went rigid suddenly. He strained against the chains. Branthor readied a spell, just in case he needed to subdue the general. A warm light began to envelop Fermur, and soon he was obscured by it completely. Branthor heard the chains drop to the ground. He readied himself. Alrion dropped to his knees, panting. Lara rushed to his aid and Alyx went over to investigate what had happened.
Fermur lay on the ground, motionless. Black flakes drifted off him and dissolved in the air. There was more colour to his face, and he seemed more human.
Branthor felt a cold shiver run through him. Knowing it was possible, having it happen to him was one thing. Seeing it happen was another.
Maybe he can do this? No, saving one at a time is manageable. What he must accomplish is impossible. Don’t get fooled.
Branthor wandered over, clapping.
“Good show! I’m no expert, but I think it worked.”
“He appears to be breathing normally. The Blight markings are gone.” Alyx examined Fermur.
“He needs to rest then?” Branthor said.
“Yes, Alyx needed time. Maybe he needs more.” Alrion looked around the shed. Branthor saw what the wizard needed.
“There’s enough here to work with.” Branthor created the visualisation in his head, then summoned his Spark to complete the spell. An earthen bed sprung up through the wooden floor. With another quick spell, some rough cloth and straw flew over to the bed, acting as a makeshift blanket.
Alrion picked up Fermur under the arms, Lara helping him with the feet.
“I could have done that. So could you, much easier,” Branthor commented.
“Didn’t feel right.” Alrion lowered Fermur down. “I need to rest now. Try to keep him alive if you don’t mind.”
“Sure, boss.” Branthor chuckled. “I’m going to go for a walk, that way I won’t accidentally do anything.” Branthor channelled some Spark to fling the door open and sauntered out.
Once outside Branthor continued walking. He didn’t aim for anywhere in particular. He found himself standing beneath a tree. He formed himself a stone chair and sat down.
What is this feeling?
He scoured his body for any signs of the Blight, but there were none. The boy’s cure had worked, even though he kept doubting it. He let himself enter a meditative state and floated for a while, his mind not latching onto anything in particular. Suddenly he sat up.
There. There it is.
It was like a wound festering within him. His pain. His desire for vengeance. Even the thought of Rindale’s name brought up waves of anger and anguish.
I can’t be normal again, can I?
He couldn’t continue the journey with Alrion. He was torn between wanting to be there, and not wanting to. He believed that there was a chance, however slim, that Alrion would succeed. But there were consequences for that too. Better not to be there. One way or another it would end with Rindale.
Branthor detected movement back at the shed and rose slowly. He let the chair collapse back into dirt and dust. With purposeful strides, he made his way back to meet them.
Your journey will end soon. His will go on.
The thought was oddly comforting. Branthor even smiled when he opened the door.
Inside, he saw Fermur sitting up and sipping some water. His eyes darted around the room feverishly. He looked like a spooked animal ready to bolt.
“He’s awake. Does he understand you?” Branthor said. Fermur almost jumped at the sound of Branthor’s voice.
“I think so. He seems better by the minute, although he’s quite nervous as you probably noticed.” Alrion remained crouched near Fermur, and Lara was feeding him the cup of water. Alyx hung back, but she had a hand on her sword. Branthor strode forward, pushing Alrion aside. He hauled Fermur to his feet and held the man’s head in both his hands.
“Where’s Rindale? Do you know where he is?” Branthor was loud and forceful. Fermur looked terrified, staring directly at the older wizard. Fermur managed a tiny nod.
“Is that a yes? Where is he?” Brantho
r continued, although he noticed Alrion had risen and was looming nearby. “I’m not hurting him, he needs to be focused.”
“Rindale,” Fermur said quietly. He nodded again.
“Can you tell us where to find him?” Branthor spoke a little softer but retained his tight grip. Fermur started to speak but stopped. He looked distraught. He started waving his hands.
“He’s trying to tell you something,” Lara said.
“I think he wants to show you,” Alyx added. Branthor removed his hands and stepped back.
“Will you show me the way to Rindale?” he said. Fermur nodded feverishly. Branthor nodded and turned away, looking to the door.
“Good. I will destroy him and prevent him from doing any more experiments. I’ll save the world, in my own way. No more vile creatures will haunt us.” Branthor clenched his fist. He knew all too well that he was part of that category. But his words were still true.
“There’s no guarantee that there isn’t more like him. Or that they won’t convert him again. Isn’t that what you said?” Alrion remarked. Branthor wheeled around to face Alrion, not bothering to hide his anger.
“When I’m done with him, there will be nothing anyone can do to bring him back or use him further. It ends with him.” Branthor stormed outside before his rage completely unleashed itself.
22
The Scholar's Path
Vincent closed the book and stood. He stretched, relieving the stiffness from sitting for such a long time. Celes and Falric seemed quite content and comfortable, glued to their books.
“Is this really productive?” he said.
“The pursuit of knowledge is always productive.” Falric closed his book and turned to Vincent. “Just, sometimes you don’t need that knowledge right away.”
“I need to keep moving. Do we have somewhere you can point us to?”
“Like the source of the Blight?” Falric said.
“Sure, that’ll do.” Vincent headed towards the day as if he were leaving immediately.
Soul of Light (The Hidden Wizard Book 4) Page 15