Exiles From The Sacred Land (Book 2)

by Mark Tyson

  “I can’t figure this out. Surely the state of affairs pertaining to wielding hasn’t been allowed to deteriorate this much. Look at him, for Fawl’s sake. I have never seen essence sickness like this before. In the old days, it was almost laughable.”

  “In the old days, his training here on the isle would have cured it. I have seen this kind of sickness before, long ago. It resembles the sickness mindwielders go through,” Erinthill said.

  “Mindwielders?” Morgoran perked up at the word. “No mindwielder I ever knew had any kind of essence sickness.”

  “It’s not the essence that makes them sick. All of their power comes from the mind; it’s the mind that breaks.”

  “Dorenn is no mindwielder. Nothing he has done has given me that indication.” His demeanor intensified. “What about tradition? No wielder has ever skipped the rituals.”

  Erinthill moved to grip Morgoran by the shoulders so she could look him directly in the eyes. “Morgoran, my friend, I beg you to put him through the trial tonight. There is no time for ritual or anything connected to the old days. None of that will have any bearing on the actual trial or its outcome. The old rituals were just for show. Take him to the Hall of Ancients.”

  Morgoran sighed. “I suppose the old days are gone. It is a shame that I am helping to begin a new generation of wielders without adhering to our customs and traditions. I guess they are just foolish nonsense.”

  “They are not foolish ways, dear. We will still honor them when the time comes. This is just an extreme case. A case you do not seem to grasp is of the upmost seriousness. ”

  Morgoran strengthened his resolve. “Very well, let’s get Dorenn to the Hall of Ancients tonight.”

  “Good, we can get this issue solved before the madness I sense in him becomes too much to handle.”

  Morgoran halted. “Madness? What madness?”

  Erinthill took Morgoran’s hand and whispered in his ear. “I know you do not want to believe his malady is of any origin besides essence, but you do know he is descended from Marella, one of the most powerful mindwielders ever known. His sickness is unique, and I fear he will go mad if we do not get him help right now.”

  Morgoran gestured to Dorenn. “Come on, lad, let us get you to the Chamber of Ancients and get you well.”

  Dorenn complied, not wishing to give away that he heard Erinthill’s whisper. He would have to look up this Marella and find out who she was.

  As luck would have it, a ship called The Shooting Star had just had her hull repaired in dry dock and still rested upon the scaffolding. She would be returned to the water in the morning. As such, she was unmanned and guarded by a scant company of lesser crew members. Gondrial suspected that the real crew had been disbanded and hired onto other ships, and that the captain of The Shooting Star, even now, perused the taverns and places of ill repute, looking to hire on new sailors. Only five scruffy sailors guarded the ship. Gondrial and Lady Shey sneaked up under the dry dock directly behind one of them.

  “Do you wish for me to teach you the sleep spell, my lady?” Gondrial whispered in Shey’s ear.

  “You seem to bring that up at the most inopportune times.”

  “We forget about it until we need it, don’t we, my lady?”

  “So it would seem. Now put that sailor out.” She pointed directly ahead.

  Gondrial whispered a few words, and the sailor collapsed.

  “Kenning, get back up!” a voice Gondrial presumed was another sailor shouted. “No sleeping on the job!”

  “Damn it,” Gondrial swore. “Do you see him?”

  “Aye, he is walking up the side of the ship from the west,” Lady Shey answered.

  “I can’t see him.”

  The sailor started moving toward his companion in a run.

  “He is going to sound the alarm,” Lady Shey warned.

  “There you are, my friend,” Gondrial said as the sailor came into his view. He mumbled a few words, and the sailor collapsed on top of his companion as he ran up to him. “Got you! Ha ha!”

  Lady Shey stifled a giggle.

  “What was that? Are you having a bit of fun, my lady?”

  “Let’s just get to the other guards,” she said.

  Ianthill headed up the makeshift gangplank as Lady Shey and Gondrial met Sanmir and Enowene on the opposite side of the ship.

  “They are all out,” Sanmir said. He held up his blow staff. “That sleep potion should keep them asleep for a couple of hours.”

  Kyrie stepped out of the shadows. “I weakened the peg; the ship is just barely holding onto the scaffolding. A good jolt and the peg will give way.”

  “Good. Everyone on board, and hold on to something,” Gondrial said. “This ship will be hitting the water hard.”

  After everyone was on board, Gondrial was about to draw essence to remove the peg when he heard shouts.

  “EY! You on that ship. You canno’ be up thar!”

  “Everyone, hold on,” Gondrial shouted as he released the essence. The ship lurched and stopped.

  “Is the stabilizer peg released?” Ianthill shouted to Gondrial.

  “Aye, I can see it on the ground.” Gondrial jumped up and down as if the ship would move down the scaffolding ramp under his weight.

  A bell rang out in the night and men scrambled.

  “They have sounded the alarm,” Kyrie bellowed.

  “Is that what that alarming sound is?” Gondrial chided.

  “Quick, help me raise the sails,” Sanmir said. “Use your magic and get those sails up!”

  “Aye,” Ianthill said. “Sanmir can fill them.”

  Lady Shey, Ianthill, and Enowene began to draw in essence, and the sails moved into position. After they were extended, Sanmir used his command of the elements and manipulated the air to fill the sails. The ship jolted forward and headed down the ramp.

  “Hold on!” Ianthill exclaimed.

  The ship hit the water full sail, tossing the small party around despite them holding on to the railing.

  The ship sailed through the harbor, but not out of danger. A frigate had joined them in pursuit, presumably the dock master.

  “How are we going to get away?” Kyrie asked Ianthill.

  His face warped into a wide grin. “Don’t worry, we will.”

  Gondrial, Lady Shey, Ianthill, Enowene, and Kyrie gathered on the bridge. The four master wielders joined hands, and Kyrie grabbed ahold of the ship’s wheel.

  “Remember, draw the essence from the sea as soon as we clear the bay,” Ianthill instructed. “I don’t want to damage Seabrey.”

  The frigate was steadily gaining on them as they cleared the bay area.

  “I wish I could see the dock master’s face,” Gondrial smirked.

  “Concentrate, Gondrial!” Ianthill snapped. “Now, draw the essence from the sea now!” They each drew in essence. “Okay, release it to me, and I will handle the rest.”

  As the wielders released their essence to Ianthill, the ship lurched forward and then slowly rose out of the water and became airborne.

  “It’s working!” Kyrie said excitedly.

  The ship gained altitude, and her sails filled with Sanmir’s wind, propelling her faster and faster. Soon the frigate and then the sea were far below and almost out of sight.

  Chapter 14: Dorenn’s Trial

  The last light of dusk settled on the horizon as Morgoran, Erinthill, Kerad, Vesperin, and Dorenn entered the Hall of Ancients. Erinthill and Vesperin patted Dorenn on the back, wished him well, and took their leave of him through a doorway that led to the attached temple of Loracia, where they prepared to join Brynna and Melias in healing prayers to Loracia and Fawlsbane Vex.

  Morgoran led Dorenn to a long corridor. “At the end of this corridor is the entrance to the Chamber of Ancients. Every wielder who ever trained on this island has been through that chamber, and every single wielder has left a part of their own essence there for future generations. New wielders were sent through to specifically heal essence sickn
ess, and then to leave their own essence when they had learned the ways of wielding later in their training. It was discovered over time that patterns in wielding essence recurred generation after generation. The essence of a former wielder that fits your essence pattern will bind with you and open you up to handle wielding essence and cure your sickness.”

  “So your essence is in there?” Dorenn asked.

  “Aye, as is Ianthill’s, Gondrial’s, Shey’s, and hundreds more.” He wavered for a moment. “But I must warn you, son.” He cupped the back of Dorenn’s head. “So are the essences of Toborne, Naneden, and Drakkius.”

  “How do I avoid them?”

  “You don’t. Their essences may heal you like any other.” He pushed him along. “We will all be here in the temple should anything go wrong. There is a rope hanging at the center of the hall. If you pull it, a bell will sound in the temple to alert us that something is wrong, and we will come running.”

  “I wish I had the Silver Drake here with me.”

  “I wish I had never told you about that. You can do it without her.”

  Dorenn could see on Morgoran’s face that he didn’t quite believe that. “I am not so sure,” Dorenn concluded.

  “There is no other choice at this point, I’m afraid. We are here, and she is not.”

  Dorenn nodded and began his trek down the corridor. Even though torches lit the way, the hall seemed to grow darker as he neared the chamber door. He pushed the chamber door open and peered into the room. A couple of sconces with torches dimly lit the room. In the center, an ornate rope with a frilly end dangled from the ceiling. Its weave consisted of different colors forming a pleasing pattern. The walls were mostly smooth except for an enormous stone sconce jutting out of each one, filled with jagged-looking, glowing green crystals.

  Dorenn entered the room and walked up to one of the crystals. He reached out and touched it, but nothing happened. He stood there a long time before visiting each crystal in turn. Am I supposed to say something or do something? he thought. He turned back to the doorway, intent to go and get Morgoran, but as soon as he took a few steps, the stone door closed and fit seamlessly in the stone around it. Dorenn could not even see the creases of a door anymore. Feeling stifled, he began to gasp for air until he noticed the flames from the torches moving due to puffs of air coming from a series of holes in the walls near the ceiling. He thought about pulling the rope since nothing was happening, but Morgoran said it was for emergencies, and this was not an emergency. He decided to sit on the floor and wait until Morgoran came to get him.

  “Remain standing,” a voice boomed in the room when Dorenn started for the floor.

  “Who’s there?” Dorenn asked. There was no answer.

  “I said, who’s there?”

  Several ethereal apparitions seeped out of the walls. They came forth as transparent mist. The crystals glowed green as soon as they appeared. “We are the vestiges left behind. We are what is left. The essences of those who came before. You have touched the vessels of our being.”

  “The crystals?”

  “Aye, that is where we dwell.”

  Dorenn caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see balls of mist, which he assumed must be the captured essences of the wielders before him, floating from each of the crystal sconces. Hundreds upon hundreds of the ethereal forms entered the chamber. “Can you cure my sickness?”

  “This is your trial, Dorenn Adair. We have been waiting for so long.”

  Dorenn was confused. “You have been waiting for me?” He began to feel uneasy as the room filled up with even more of the balls of mist. “How do you know my name?” He started to move toward the rope. “One of you is supposed to bond with me and cure me, right?”

  Mist snaked its way up to his head, blocking his way to the rope. It formed into a face eye to eye with him. “I am the essence of Salazera. I can cure you.” Dorenn opened his mouth to talk, but before he could get a word out, the mist entered him like a puff of air, and he breathed it in deeply. He started coughing and couldn’t catch his breath. He bent over and put his hands on the top of his thighs. He coughed again and then stood upright, taking a deep breath. The mists were swirling around him, and as soon as he started breathing in, they all entered his torso in rapid succession. He gasped and writhed but could not stop them. He reached for the rope nearby as the last of the mist entered his body. The room was spinning, and his head felt like it had been cleaved into. He felt himself falling to the floor. Reaching out for the rope, he fell short. From the floor, he could see more mists coming forth from the crystal vessels. He opened his mouth in an attempt to call for Morgoran to help him. The new mists surrounded him and began to enter his body. The pain became unbearable, and Dorenn closed his eyes. When the pain subsided, he opened his eyes to see more mist pouring out of the crystals. Dorenn tried to scream as they floated toward him. Again the pain came, and Dorenn felt himself go limp.

  Faint voices from somewhere in the distance became louder and louder as Dorenn regained consciousness. He expected to see Morgoran, Melias, and the others. Instead he was in a rich, wood-paneled room with a warm fire burning in an impressively-carved stone fireplace. As he regained his senses and could see more of the room, he was reminded of some of the hunting lodges near Brookhaven, minus the animal heads on the walls. At the room’s center sat a rustic, wood-carved table with matching chairs, and sitting on those chairs were two people Dorenn didn’t recognize. The man, who looked like a much older version of Gondrial, was dressed in dark green robes. He was talking and puffing on a white clay pipe. The woman sitting next to him, laughing with a high-pitched voice, was dressed in a white robe and also occasionally puffed on a white clay pipe. From what Dorenn could see of her, she had blonde hair and a pleasant demeanor.

  Dorenn groaned and sat upright. “Where am I?”

  The woman in white put down her pipe on the table. “Ah, welcome, young Dorenn Adair,” she said.

  “Come here and sit at the table. We have much to discuss,” the man in green said as he pushed out one of the chairs with his foot under the table.

  Dorenn reluctantly accepted the invitation and sat in the chair.

  The man puffed his pipe and sat back in his chair. “My name is Zarluflast, but people call me Zarl for short.” He offered his hand toward the woman in white. “My dear.”

  The woman took her cue. “Oh, and my name is Loris.” Her voice was only a whisper, soft and faint.

  “We are the keepers of the Hall of Ancients,” Zarl said with a flourish of his hand. “We have brought you here because we need to discuss your future.”

  “Yes, dear,” Loris said, “we are acting on instruction from Fawlsbane Vex himself.”

  Dorenn looked around the room. “Is this a lodge?”

  Zarl looked at Loris and put down his pipe. “We should go ahead and cure the essence sickness now, my dear, before we proceed any further.”

  “I agree.”

  The pair moved toward him, and the entire room went dark. When the light returned, Dorenn was sitting up from the same spot where he had been left unconscious before. Exactly the same scene as before with Zarl and Loris laughing and smoking at the wooden table occurred again. Only this time, Loris came to him as soon as he opened his eyes. “Is this a dream?” he wondered aloud.

  “Aye, it is a dream,” Loris said. “Just not the same kind of dream you are used to.”

  “This lodge, as you asked before, is inside of your head. We are in a dream construction of your making. I quite like it. Spectacular job,” Zarl commended.

  “So, I am cured of the essence sickness?”

  Loris patted him on the head. “As cured as you will ever be.”

  “You are still on the floor in the crystal chamber. No one has come to check on you yet, but I am sure it is only a matter of time. Morgoran will wake you up and see you are cured. No one will be the wiser of what has actually happened to you.”

  “Oh, and what has happened to me
?” Dorenn asked.

  Loris grimaced and moved back to the table.

  “What?” Dorenn asked again.

  Zarl stood from the table, took up his pipe, and puffed deeply on it a few times. “You have been through the trial of the ancients.”

  “And?”

  “Do you have any idea how the chamber works?” Zarl asked.

  “Aye, Morgoran said that I would enter the chamber and the essence left behind by the most compatible wielder would bind with me and cure the essence sickness.”

  “Aye, and that is precisely what happened, only . . .”

  Loris could see Zarl’s hesitation, so she spoke up. “We were all joined with you. Every wielder known to pass through this chamber. You are an impossible man. You are compatible with all of us.”

  “How can that be?” Dorenn asked. “That can’t be right.”

  “No, it cannot,” Zarl agreed. “However, there is one possibility that Fawlsbane Vex mentioned to me long ago, and it is why we are here now. The Tome of Enlightenment.”

  “What is the Tome of Enlightenment?” Dorenn asked, now feeling skeptical.

  “The Tome of Enlightenment was the first book given to all races of the world. As soon as a person looks upon it, they may read it. It was the book that first taught the concepts of magic. Dragons read it and learned Dragon magic, some men read it and learned to wield essence, some men read it and learned to mindwield, and so on. Each race read it differently, and each race received knowledge of magic from it.”

  Loris took over. “Then the tome was lost. After the magic war, much of the ability to use essence and mindwield was lost with the men and women who died, taking the secret with them to the grave. We need that tome to be found.”

  “I asked Fawlsbane Vex, when he still walked among us, where it was located. He told me that one day, when the need was dire, a man would come to take the trials who would join with all the essences of the chamber, and the combined knowledge he would receive from the joining would tell him where to find the book.”