by David Wind
She fought, pushing against him, holding him back as best she could until a new force built within her, a force both familiar and strange. Together, they pushed back the Master’s power.
The staff, projected the Speaker of the Eight. The staff, the ancient sorceress repeated. A picture of the object floating between the two crystal boxes filled in her mind. Yes.
With one last effort, she pushed the Master’s attack from her and with the help of the Eight of the Island, set a shield around herself, gained her feet and ran to the crystal boxes. There, she reached out and grasped the floating wooden staff.
A flash, like lightning, burned into her hands. A surge of power filled her with an incredible energy. Turning to the crystal entrance, the staff held firmly in both hands, she stared at the crystal and pushed herself to see through it to the outside. The horde of semi-human warriors was retreating and of Mikaal, there was no sign. She could not feel him or see him, yet she knew he was alive.
Then, on the far side of the crystal entry, standing before her was the Master.
His black robe and cowl hid his features; yet she could see the burning red rings around his amber eyes. Staring at her, the wall of solid crystal between them, he pulled the cowl back and revealed his face. It was almost the face of a man… almost. Hairless, his eyes were wide-set and oval. The irises tinged with a red circle separating orange irises from the white. His nose was a small flat piece of skin with two small holes for breathing. His mouth was a small oval, nearly circular, and the exposed teeth were yellowish brown.
Mine he is now, your… man. His mind and body mine to control. I will have you as well. Mistake this not. Your powers are futile against me. For you and your kind, it is the end.
Areenna’s hands clenched into fists. Never will I allow such. I will find you and I will take him from you and together we will destroy you!
He smiled, his oval mouth twisting. Yes, come find me. A gray swirling mist rose from the ground to surround him. An instant later, he was gone.
Areenna closed her eyes and exhaled her long held breath. The emptiness within her grew into a cloying, anguished void. Opening her eyes, she looked at Charka. He was next to the wall, at the edge of where the crystal sheet would open. He stood there shaking, a low groaning sound bubbling from his mouth.
She went to him and still holding the staff in one hand, stroked his elongated snout as she sent him a calming energy she did not feel. A few moments later, he stopped trembling. Areenna pressed her mouth to his head and held it there.
We will find him, brother; we will bring him back.
In turn, she accepted a surge of warmth from the kraal, a sensation of absolute trust in her. Turning from Charka to the crystal entrance and intuitively using the staff, she pushed at the crystal. It responded immediately with a flare of color and opened without a sound. She stepped through the entrance and surveyed what lay before her. There were at least ten dead lying in a circle where Mikal had stood. In its center lay his longsword and dagger.
She picked them up, hugged the cool metal to her chest and sent out another questing thought to Mikaal. There was no answer. She called to Gaalrie, who swooped low above her. Find them, track them, and watch over Mikaal. When Gaalrie rose skyward, she returned to the cavern and using the powers she drew from the staff, sealed the entry.
She stood still for several seconds before going to the two crystal boxes. When she reached them, she turned to face the woman within.
Areenna could not stop comparing her to Bekar, whom they had met on the old highway in Northcrom. She studied her intensely. The pale skin, the white blonde hair, and the beautiful features combined to tell her this was no woman of Nevaeh, yet somehow, Areenna knew she was.
She studied the crystal box, looking at the seams. Slowly, carefully, she reached for what appeared to be a small notch on the top and placed her hands near it. The instant her fingers touched the crystal, a powerful surge burst between her and the box and she froze. She tried to move but could not. Whatever it was, it had paralyzed her.
She reached for her abilities but a strange vision caught her and drew her from the cavern. She found herself standing in a thicket of woods unlike any she had ever seen and a shimmering vision of the woman in the crystal box stood before her.
The breezes lifted the vision’s long hair, tossing it randomly. “You did well, Child,” she praised.
“I don’t…” Areenna looked around, trying to understand where she was.
“You will understand,” the woman said. “I have waited for you and him for millenniums as I told you on the old highway.”
“Who are you? Bekar you are not.” She stepped closer to the vision and peered into her eyes to find they were the same as her own—sea foam green with silver flecks. Areenna gasped with understanding.
“Yes, Child of my childrens’ childrens’ children. For more than a hundred generations, for well over two thousand years, have I lain here. You are correct. I am not Bekar.”
Areenna’mind was a swirling storm of random thoughts. Everything she had done since the day she’d left for the Island rose up within her, attacking her, making her head hurt and her mind cry out for help. Then, slowly, she rebuilt her composure, settled her mind and drew herself tall. “How do you still live? How come you? How were you on the old highway?”
She smiled sadly. “I am but a memory placed within this cavern for you, my body sustained within the crystal for this singular purpose. I am not Bekar of the highway, although she too is my descendant and your ancestor and as such a part of me. When I lived, I was called Ailish.”
“Ailish…” she whispered, the old tales of her childhood rising quickly. “You are… but a legend.”
“As I should be, Child. A legend, a memory, a reason to survive. I have been kept here, hidden from all while they waited.”
“They?” As she spoke the word, understanding came. “The Eight,” she whispered. In her hand, the wooden staff glowed.
Yes, Child, we are here, came the all too familiar thoughts of the eight women of the Island.
Why did you not do this on the Island? Why did you send us here?
Because the staff and he are here, the Speaker of the Eight said.
Although she was staring at the vision of Ailish, she saw flashes of others, of the black-skinned half-women half-snucks from the Island. He?
Sit Areenna, I will show you. Ailish reached out and grasped Areenna’s head. The instant she did, Charka cried out.
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A wave of vertigo drew her into a maelstrom of sound and color until she grasped harder on the staff to stop from falling. Transported yet again, she stood in an unfamiliar cove cut within the walls of the southern palisades. They were familiar but different, taller, reaching higher above the water than in present time. When the familiarity of the palisades grew on her, she realized where she was.
This is Nevaeh, millennia before your birth. The lands were still shifting, the oceans changing, and even as the lands were changing, the people adapted and transformed from what they had once been and were becoming what you are now. Our magic was growing, and our women were learning more control and developing stronger power with its use.
The Circle of Afzal had conquered all the lands of the world except for Nevaeh. We were the last left to stand against them. For centuries, they sent their slaves against us and while our people had stopped them, the costs were high, and we were on the verge of failing. The Masters believe every living being is theirs to do with as they please—they take it as their right to bring everyone under the control of the Circle, to accept only the Circle’s ideals.
It was at this time the Circle sent a huge fleet with tens of thousands of their subjugated mindless ghazi soldiers to overrun Nevaeh and enslave our people. For the first time, all the Masters were upon the ships. They are terrible in their power. They use their slaves as food, not to eat their flesh but to consume the very life force within each. They have subjugated them, turned them i
nto mindless creatures with but a single purpose: to bring more slaves to the Circle. The Masters believe themselves omnipotent, to be above all others. Watch!
The vision who was Ailish pressed her hands tighter to Areenna’s head and a new scene unfolded within her mind’s eye. Off the shore of the southern palisades, riding upon the sea were hundreds of huge ships. The night was cloudy and moonless and she was floating above one of the ships.
Below her, a twisted man crossed the deck—she knew intuitively he was the Master whose body lay in the crystal box. A dark clinging mist surrounded the Master and, caught within the memory of thousands of years before, she followed the Master’s limping rush toward the railing.
Reaching the ship’s side, he climbed the railing and jumped into the sea. The whirling gray mist covering him, held him above the water and carried him to the shore, where he walked west. A short time later, he climbed to the top of the palisade. Once there, he walked east.
When he disappeared in the distance, Areenna looked down at the ships. On the ship below her, the one the Master had jumped from, two more Masters stood at the bow. Behind them a hundred followers moved in a frenzied pattern until the ship lurched forward toward the notch in the palisades where the first Master had gone.
The ship skimmed over the water, picking up speed on its race toward shore. Both Masters had their arms raised. The sails billowed fully, propelling the ship faster. Four minutes later, the ship ground to a stop, its bow embedded in the gravel-like sand of the cove’s shore.
Cries and shouts rose from the deck as the Masters urged their creatures over the sides. Once everyone was aground, the Masters led them up the side of the palisade. When they reached the top, they formed into ranks and started after the first Master.
She watched them follow him while Ailish’s voice filled her mind. These are the fifth and last generation of Masters. Each generation before them became stronger, their magic more powerful, and each generation longer lived. The Master you first saw, the one with the staff, is he who now lies within the crystal. He is a direct descendant of Afzal Mahmud Tarek, the creator of the Circle. These Masters retain their life force by draining that of their people.
Like our sisters of the Island, there are eight Masters. As time passed, they became equals; no one single Master ruling the others. They were always of one mind, one purpose: to make all subservient. However, this one Master was different. We know not why he was so, we can only guess, but for whatever reason, he was different.
As the grandson five times removed from the grandfather, he held the sacred possessions of Afzal, and among those possessions was a book. This book, called the Koran, was the writing from which the Circle of Afzal drew its beliefs.
This Master spent decades reading and studying the Koran, and one day he discovered his ancestor had twisted the meanings of the writings. What Afzal Mahmud Tarek had taken to signify they were supposed to make everyone believe as they did, was not what the writing had intended. No, it was just the opposite. The original book spoke of peace and the joy of life. It spoke of compassion and understanding, of love and acceptance, not war and subjugation.
This Master, within the revelation of the Koran’s true meaning, understood what he needed to do. While the other seven Masters planned the conquering of Nevaeh, he worked out a plan to stop it… forever.
The staff, Ailish continued, handed down from one descendant to the next, became more and more an object of power, made so by the generations before it. However, this Master learned the staff could be more. He believed it could bridge all, stop this endless war ofannihilation, if the deepest powers of Nevaeh, the powers of the Masters’ opposites— the Eight women of the Island—could merge with it.
He believes whenhe and the Eight join together they will have the ability to turn the staff into an instrument so powerful it will defeat the vast forces of the dark powers.
Areenna shook her head. She raised her hands to her head and covered Ailish’s with them.He never reached the Island, did he?” Areenna dropped her hands to her sides.
Reached the Island he did, for I was there when he stepped upon the Landing. They had summoned me to be there when the Master, Jalil Ben Afzal arrived. We entered the ruins together and together met with the Eight.
I watched them gather around the Master and each place one hand on the staff and the other on the shoulder next to them. A force built around them so powerful it caught me within its embrace, and I too became connected to the nine who held the staff. A bolt of lightning flashed, not from the sky to the earth, but from the staff itself. It rose into the clouds and when it struck them, a strange golden rain fell upon us. The lightning continued to touch the clouds, and as the golden rain poured down, the nine holding the staff glowed within the misting droplets.
A trembling started within me and grew stronger. The nine cried out in one voice, and the rain stopped. The lightning withdrew from the sky and returned to the staff. The trembling within continued and I realized what it was. The staff linked me to the nine of them, and the powers they were pouring into the staff passed through me as well.
I know not how long this lasted; when it ended, I fell unconscious to the floor. When I awoke, the Speaker of the Eight brought me to my feet. She told me the dark forces were across the water, at the western Landing. They were preparing to attack the Island. They knew what the renegade Master had done and wanted him and the staff.
They charged me with keeping the Master safe and taking him to a place of hiding. When the other Masters discovered Jalil Ben Afzal’s defection, they’d ordered their fleet to the Island.
They would attack the Island, but without the eighth Master, the Circle would not be able to overpower the Sorceresses; yet, the Masters would sacrifice every one of their army to get the Master and the staff; so important were they both to them. There was only one way to prevent the attack: the Master and I had to get away.
The Eight placed a vision of my destination, and the route to get there. Then the Master and I went to the landing and boarded the skiff. Once they were certain the Masters had seen us board the skiff, the Master raised his staff and created a fog to surround us. The Speaker of the Eight told me to raise both shield and block, to maintain it until we were far away. The powers within me had grown stronger since my joining with the staff. I did as instructed, and the Eight came together and created a vision of a skiff with myself and the Master seated within it. Then they sent us off, our skiff hidden with the fog, the other skiff barely visible.
Instead of crossing to the Landing, we headed toward open sea. When we passed the tip of the Island, the illusion still shrouded by fog, we turned to circle the Island. In that moment, the seven Masters sent a huge wave upon us—at the vision, to force it back. Because we were turning, our skiff was sideways when it struck. The small skiff rose and was tossed madly about. It almost went over, but the Master stopped it from rolling. At the same moment, from behind me came a terrible crash. When I turned, I found the Master laying upon a shattered bench. A long thin piece of wood was sticking out from his back.
The Eight came to us, projecting their minds and abilities to me, as I pulled the long wooden spike from his back. Having the healing ability, I stopped the flow of blood but did not have the time to heal him fully, nor could I spare the energy without dropping the shield and the block.
Thankfully, we rounded the tip of the Island while the other Masters continued to drive the vision skiff toward them. Four hours later, I pulled to the shore and returned to healing the Master. When he tried to move, he could not. The wood had not just shattered inside of him; it had broken his back and he had no movement below his waist. Later I learned the healing had not fully taken because there was more of the wood inside him.
I could do nothing, and he asked for nothing. He accepted what happened and was grateful we had escaped. In one village of Northcrom, they made us a rolling cart so the litter I carried him on would not be necessary. From there, with the aid of many Nevae
ns, we moved north to the tar fields, west across the Arctic Ice fields to the twin-peaked mountains the Eight had sent me.
It took almost a year to reach our destination. We met many people who aided us along the way. We met too, many agents of the Dark Masters whom we fought and defeated. When we reached the mountain, the Master used his staff to create the cavern and the crystal door. He was sick, the infection from the wound had grown and slowly spread through his body. His magic and mine slowed the infection but we could not stop it.
The Speaker of the Eight appeared to me. She told me what came next but also said it was my choice to accept. My daughter was Queen of Fainhall, married to the King. My husband had died in battle six years before, and my son ruled Morvene with his queen.
All was as it should be, and I knew, without me, there might be no future for my children or any Nevaen. I accepted my role and told the speaker of my decision. When I did, the Master called me to him. I knelt next to Jalil Ben Afzal and he took my hands in his. He raised them to his lips and kissed each one.
He said nothing, but I understood. He was dying.
Then the sorceresses of the Island joined with the Master and their vision essence surrounded me. Then each put a hand on me and pushed into me, the vision of the eras ahead.
When they finished, they moved the Master to the center of the cavern and placed him on the ground. They had me lie near him, and after I did, they stepped back to form a circle around us.
The cavern glowed with light. Above me, two balls of pure energy rose rippling and stretching. I was falling asleep, yet I was able to see everything. The crystal formed around me; yet, through all the time, as I lay here... through all the generations of my children, I was granted the knowledge of all that has transpired until the moment you entered this cavern.
The images faded and Areenna was back in the cavern. “You went into the crystal even though you knew you would never come out?”