“Not at all,” Ban said.
“So eventually they will turn upon each other, then starve, leaving only the demon himself to roam a desolate Quadar.”
“Doesn’t seem like much of a future, even for the King of Evil,” the boy concluded.
“Well, it falls to us to assure that future does not come to pass,” said the wizard. They flew the remainder of the way back to Trakkas in silence, each mulling over his own heavy thoughts.
Cerah lifted a hand to her brow to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun. Her improved vision enabled to her make out the distant southern shore of Melsa. “We’re almost home, Tress!” she exclaimed gleefully.
“Yes. I spotted it several minutes ago,” Tressida answered, a little smugly as she always tended to be when pointing out her vastly superior senses.
“Your eyes are much keener than mine. Still, it fills me with joy to see it. Look how green it is!”
Tressida’s heart warmed at Cerah’s mention of her joy. Since her emotions had returned Tress felt that her match-mate had a renewed enthusiasm for life. She’d been more concerned than she let on about Cerah’s dark musings as they’d rested the day before, but chose to believe it was an isolated incident. “We have seen much of Quadar in our journeys together,” said the dragon, “but I am convinced Melsa is the fairest land of all.”
“You’ll get no argument from me!” Cerah replied. It took them about forty minutes to bridge the space between her first sighting of the island and their touchdown at the edge of the Elder’s Village. Several mature wizards hurried to greet her. At the head of the welcoming party was the beautiful Lycantra, who was in fact Parnasus’s mother. She had been among the four wizards who had helped Cerah prepare for her wedding, and they had developed a strong bond. The elder sorceress threw her arms around the young woman and squeezed hard.
“Darling Cerah! You are well!” she said, beginning to weep with joy.
Seeing Lycantra’s tears caused Cerah’s own to begin, unexpectedly. It felt cleansing. “It is so good to see you, Ly!” she cried.
Within Cerah’s mind she heard Tressida well up with emotion. “Bwah! This is all so beautiful!” she said. Dragons didn’t actually shed tears, but it was not the first time Cerah had heard her gush.
“Tress is glad to see you as well,” she told the elder woman.
“Hello, your highness. Your presence is always most auspicious,” Lycantra said, addressing her directly. Tressida bobbed her head up and down vigorously to acknowledge the greeting.
“Have you been travelling a long time? You must be famished. Come to the Central Flame and let us dote upon you!” Lycantra said to Cerah.
“We have been aloft for the majority of four days since leaving the Frozen South,” Cerah answered as they began to walk toward the fire that the elders kept lit constantly.
“The Frozen South!” Lycantra exclaimed. “Why would you return to that horrid place?”
“I was not there of my own volition. I will tell you all about it, and I owe the story to my match-mate as well. She has been very kind not to ask me any questions until I was ready to talk about it, which I will be as soon as I’m done gorging myself on your famous cooking!”
As Lycantra led Cerah to one of the comfortable wooden seats which were arranged around the fire that burned continually at the center of the village, four other women were scurrying around to prepare her meal. In her time on Melsa, Cerah had learned that watching one’s food being cooked by wizards was as much a part of the enjoyment of the total experience as was the actual eating. For in addition to the sizzling sounds and the tantalizing aroma, wizard cooking added the dimension of light and color, as magic mixed with spice and meat and vegetable to create an edible floorshow.
Within a few minutes Cerah held a steaming plate on her lap, while drinking deeply from a tall tumbler of wizard wine. The liquid seemed to seep into every part of her body, simultaneously warming and relaxing her. The entire time she was dining, Lycantra and the other women who sat with her made small talk, commenting on how long Cerah’s hair had grown since last they’d seen her and how her molute armor complimented her figure so nicely. It was just the sort of thing she’d needed to hear. Every wizard currently on Melsa was fully aware of the gravity that every day now carried with it, but they also knew what sort of things to talk about, things that might ease Cerah’s mind, if only for a short time.
Finally, she finished her meal. Molia, a younger wizard whom she’d also met on the day of her wedding and who often served the elders, cleared away her stoneware plate and refilled her glass, then retreated into one of the nearby cottages.
“I trust that you feel refreshed?” Lycantra asked.
“How could I not? Between that amazing food and this?” she said, lifting her wine in a toast to the elders.
“Then when you are ready you must tell us everything.”
Cerah took a deep breath, and began. “Very well. I assume you have heard of what happened at Thresh, when I attacked the effigy of Surok that he had caused to appear in the city square.”
Lycantra nodded gravely. “We have. My son said that your blow destroyed the statue, but at the moment your staff-blade struck, you vanished.”
“The sound of Isurra clashing against it is the last thing I remember of being in Thresh. When I again became aware of my surroundings…no that is not the right way to put it. When I became aware that I existed, for I could hear or see nothing, it took me a while to regain my composure. Eventually, I thought to turn my eyes inward and let the Greater Spark light my location. As soon as I had done this I realized that I was in the Under Plane.”
“Oh dear!” gasped Lycantra. “Only in our deepest history are there stories of wizards journeying below and returning. I have always thought them legends, as surely much of our written history must be. Are you sure that is where you were, Cerah?”
“Without question. Before that moment my only exposure to the lost souls that there dwell was when Parnasus took me to the Cavern of Sighs. It was that experience, however, that made me sure of where I was. It is the overwhelming casket of sorrow that surrounds you. In Onesperus this was frightening, direful. But now I felt those feelings multiplied to a degree that challenged my soul. There was no lifeline for me, as Parnasus had provided in the Cavern. I was fully immersed in the bleak eternity that is the Under Plane.”
“My poor angel,” Tressida said into Cerah’s mind. She could hear the agony in the golden dragon’s mental voice.
“I would have despaired,” said Isa, who sat to Cerah’s left. “I cannot bear to even imagine being so far from Ma’uzzi’s light.”
Cerah smiled and touched the wizard’s hand. “Dear Isa, I was filled with that light! It was my only shelter. Although the vast grief assailed me from every direction, the Greater Spark not only gave me a way to see in the eternal darkness, it allowed me to put a buffer around myself. The sad spirits could not approach.”
“Still,” said Lycantra. “To be in Pilka’s realm! How fortunate that she did not assail you!”
“She did.”
“What?” Tressida nearly shrieked. Her shock was mirrored by the women with whom she sat.
“First I heard Surok’s voice, mocking me. He was not there in the Under Plane with me, and yet, although I did not understand how, he was able to speak to me. At that point I guessed he was able to reach down from this plane, perhaps to seek his mother’s counsel. Where ever he was, he told me that by striking his statue I had so angered Pilka that it was she who ripped me into the Under Plane. This was the last I heard of him, for as soon as he had told me this, she appeared before me herself.”
“A face I pray I never see!” said Isa.
“Had it not been for Ma’uzzi’s hand firmly upon my heart I don’t know that my spirit would have survived the encounter. For all Surok’s evil, Pilka is ever so much more a vessel of pure cruelty and hatred. Even before she spoke I could feel her ire radiate from her in wave after pounding wav
e.”
“I cannot begin to imagine,” Lycantra said. “But I have a suspicion that you, dear, gave Pilka a turn of her own.”
Cerah laughed. “You know me well, Fair-Mother,” she said, speaking the term of respect. “I have been told more than once that in situations of great stress I move into a state of almost inappropriate calm. That happened to me then, and it drove her over the edge! The more she railed against me, the more flippant I became. I taunted her by speaking Ma’uzzi’s name again and again.”
The women laughed out loud at the thought of this slim young girl taunting a goddess. “How did you get away from her?” Lycantra asked when she’d regained her composure.
“Well, actually, she ran from me!” Cerah said, relating Pilka’s speedy, whirlwind retreat.
“Oh! The Creator chose wisely when He put His mark upon your forehead!” said a third elder, named Dereeta. “Who else would have dared walk toward Pilka? I’d have flown in the opposite direction as fast as my old legs would carry me! I’d have outpaced my match-mate!”
“In retrospect, I suppose it was a little foolhardy. I had no guarantee she wouldn’t do something horrible. I was in her realm, after all.”
Lycantra now reached out and touched Cerah’s leg. “I don’t believe she could touch you love. Remember, you have Ma’uzzi within you, and they aren’t exactly on speaking terms. I have studied all that is written on the other planes, including the tales of the ancient wizards who dared journey below. From what I’ve been able to piece together, any being who manages to bring our Father with him…or her,” she said nodding to Cerah, “is essentially physically unassailable. It is in the mind and heart that one is vulnerable. One story tells of a wizard who came back forever diminished by the experience.”
“She did attempt to tear me down verbally. When I first stood up to her she called me every vile name I’d ever heard, then when she’d used all of those up, she launched into a tirade of words in a language I didn’t even recognize, though I could tell they weren’t blessings!” Cerah said.
Another round of laughter greeted that statement. Cerah was pleased to hear Tressida’s mirth join the others. Part of the reason she’d held back from talking with the dragon about her experiences was her concern about the effect they would have upon her. Tress was an extremely sensitive creature, especially with regard to Cerah and her wellbeing. Telling her the tale while Tress was still in a weakened condition didn’t seem prudent.
“Ultimately, however,” Cerah went on, “Pilka was not the being that disconcerted me the most while I in the Plane of Sorrow.” She went on to tell the others about Therra. They were as perplexed as Cerah had been about the story the child-wraith had told, and they were especially concerned by Cerah’s last sight of her, standing by and mirroring the facial expression of Pilka.
She then told them of Between, and of her discovery that Surok traveled freely from there to the Green Lands at will, explaining that she now understood he’d been there when she’d heard his voice before. She described her encounter with the demon, and of the advantage she’d held over him in their brief battle.
“As much as it comforts my Spark to be with you all again, Therra is the main reason I have stopped at Melsa before returning to the war. I need to go to the Hall of Whispers to see if Therrien will speak with me.”
Lycantra nodded. “That is wise. He is among those few who are mentioned in the histories. Those who have made the journey to the Under Plane and have returned to tell of it, although little is written of what he experienced. Only that he went and came back. He was living mostly in isolation by that point in his life.”
“I would also seek Opatta’s counsel regarding Surok. The more I know about the demon, the less I seem to understand! After I’ve had a little longer to digest the meal you lavished upon me, Tress and I will go to Quarada,” Cerah informed them.
The rest of the afternoon was spent discussing other matters. Lycantra was able to fill Cerah in on the progress the army had made in Illyria since Tressida had left to find her. She also said Parnasus had told her a boy had come to the front to meet Slurr, at Cerah’s prompting, they believed.
Cerah excitedly confirmed that she had indeed sent Ban to find Slurr, and revealed to the wizards all she had learned about her husband’s family.
“Parnasus did not indicate that they know they are brothers,” Lycantra said, “though all who see them remark on the resemblance.”
“I will reveal that to Slurr when I am with him again. Please do not share this news before I can do that.”
“Absolutely. As you wish,” said Lycantra.
“Very well,” said Cerah. “I will take my leave now. When I am finished at Onesperus, I will be flying directly to Trakkas, so this is farewell for the time being.” Another round of embraces bookended their visit, and Lycantra walked with Cerah to where Tressida stood waiting.
“I would make a request of you, child,” she said as Cerah mounted her match-mate.
“Anything,” she replied.
“Please keep an eye on my son. I fear sometimes he pushes himself too hard. If he takes proper care of himself he had many good years ahead of him, but, alas, I know him. He will give all he has to the cause of freedom. And in doing so he might give…all that he has.”
“I understand,” Cerah answered. “I too have worried after him at times. But I will do all that is in my power to make sure you see him again.”
“Then I shall rest easy,” said the wizard, her violet eyes sparking as she reached up and gave Tressida a warm pat on the side. “Be well, Chosen One. We look to you, and to Ma’uzzi.” She kissed the girl on her forehead, directly upon the mark. It was a gesture that warmed Cerah’s heart.
“Keep the Central Flame blazing,” Cerah said as Tressida took flight. “I look forward to my next meal there…in the new age of peace!”
As always, it took about an hour to fly from the Elder’s Village to Quarada. During that time Cerah and Tressida talked about many things, all of them inconsequential. They both knew that Cerah’s visit to the Hall of Whispers would most likely not be as pleasant as had been her first, almost a year before, when Parnasus had introduced her to its wonders. That day she’d heard her mother’s voice for the first time since Jul’s passing, and she’d learned that wizard blood did indeed flow in her veins, though diluted by many years of being mixed with that of her human forefathers.
As the soaring mountain grew closer Tressida felt the time for idle chatter was over and said, “You know there is always the chance that neither will answer you. The spirits of the wizards of the past come to you at their pleasure.”
“Yes, Parnasus told me that the come only if they find you worthy.”
“Well I don’t think that will be the issue. There is none more worthy than you of the wisdom of the great elders. I’m feeling rather that they may be reluctant to answer the questions you’re going to be asking. In Therrien’s case at the very least.”
“That may be. I won’t know until I try,” Cerah answered.
“True enough, my wise darling! Just remember to lead with the Greater Spark. These are friendly environs to you now, certainly much more so than some of the places you’ve visited of late,” the dragon said with a shiver, as she touched down on the narrow outcropping first shown to her by Dardaan when Cerah and Parnasus made their initial visit to Quarada, seemingly a lifetime before.
“Agreed!” Cerah said as she jumped from the golden dragon’s back. She gave her match-mate a warm embrace before climbing from the landing spot to the mouth of Onesperus. “I will be back before you know it.”
“You have spoken those words to me at this place before. I am far more confident you are speaking the truth this time,” she said, referring to the night Cerah had sought to see Surok and had nearly lost her life to the dual-natured Sarquahn.
Cerah scampered up the mountain, remembering as she did how difficult the climb had been the first time she’d done it. The months of training and even
more months of rigorous life that had followed that early ascent had honed her body into a far more fit machine than it had been then, and she had little trouble negotiating her way up the path.
When she pulled herself onto the ledge that led to the mouth of the cave, she stood for a moment. It was cold, but compared to what she’d endured on the Frozen South, the temperature was not troublesome. What was bothering her, as had been the case far too many times, was her own self-doubt. She walked towards the opening still feeling that the sacred cave held mysteries that had yet to reveal themselves, and she wondered if she’d be ready for them.
Tressida, far below, heard her thoughts and said, “Dear heart! After all you have overcome? Surely you must realize you are equal to anything the cave might have to show you!”
“I know this in my head. My heart still falters though, Tress,” she answered, pausing just at the portal.
“Your heart! Remember that the heart of Ma’uzzi beats alongside your own! Now go and do what needs to be done, so that you can come back to me.”
Cerah smiled. “Thank you, beloved.”
She entered the cave.
Immediately she realized that something was different. When she had originally stepped into the first chamber of Onesperus she’d been amazed at the warmth and beauty of it. The Hall of Remembering, with its rune-carved walls had welcomed her. But today the hall was cool and far darker. The diffuse light that had so enchanted her was still present, but was much dimmer. Cerah wondered if the death of the Sarquahn was responsible for the change. She had not been back to the cave since the day she had entered Ma’uzzi’s Rest and had Gone Within to taunt Surok. That session had ended with the Sarquahn’s flames being extinguished and the withering of its branches. Parnasus said more than once that the Sarquahn was the heart of Onesperus. Now that heart no longer beats.
Or perhaps the cave itself knew that most of the wizards of Melsa were in far distant places, and it held back the light now, until they returned. Regardless, she passed through the faintly shimmering chamber.
A Single Candle (Cerah of Quadar Book 3) Page 17