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Dark Moon Rising (The Prophecies of Zanufey)

Page 42

by A. Evermore


  ‘Fire is a simple thing to create but it is ultimately destructive and, unless its energy is used wisely, takes more from the world and the wielder than it gives back. This is nothing compared to what learned Wizards can do, and they in turn cannot do half of what the Ancients could.

  ‘You need the talent, the will and the feel of magic. Most people cannot wield it because they lack one or all. Many have the will but cannot feel the energy that surrounds them. Fewer have the feel of the energy but lack the strength of will, and fewer still lack the talent which creates the truly great Wizards. It can be taught to some degree, but those that do not naturally have them are limited to simple tricks such as this.

  ‘It is my belief that you have the talent and the feel, but maybe not the will, which is the control. It needs to be trained so it is not wild and destructive. Did you feel it?’

  Issa nodded, ‘There was a blue shimmer, the air was charged and my skin tingled.’

  Freydel nodded looking pleased. ‘First you must still the mind, empty those cluttering thoughts so you can be fully, passively, in the present. Once you are in this state, feel the energy of the things around you. Living things have the most energy, but even rocks have their own, slower, vibrations. There is also energy between all things, linking us all together.

  ‘Once you feel the energy you can feel its flow, you are ‘In The Flow’ as we call it. You can then draw more to you and then, with talent, bend it to your will. The trick is to draw to you only the energy that you require, gently releasing it as you exert your will. Never draw too much and never release too quickly. Many novices have killed themselves in their excitement of the power, drawing too much and not knowing how to control it. Self control is the key to survival here.’

  Issa nodded, listening eagerly.

  ‘You can also feel others in The Flow. Some can call forth the energy to do their bidding at lightning speed. Others take a lot longer, but are able to hold far more. Now then,’ he said, tearing off another piece of paper, ‘you try.’

  Issa took a deep breath, doubt immediately creeping into her mind. What if she felt nothing? What if she couldn’t light the paper? There was nothing for it but to try, if it did not come now maybe it would come later. Slowly she let out her breath and focused on the scrap of paper. It took a few moments to still her mind and forget Freydel’s presence beside her. Feel the energy, find The Flow, she said over and over in her head.

  ‘No,’ Freydel said, breaking her concentration, ‘you cannot search for the energy; you must simply become aware of it.’

  Issa shifted agitatedly in her seat and focused again. For a while there was nothing and she had to let the feelings of frustration pass until she felt completely passive. At first she felt a trickle of something in her mind, like rain drops running down a windowpane. She fancied she saw drifting white lines of light around the paper reaching out to touch everything. Yellow lines seemed to surround Freydel and when she looked harder she saw his aura, a beacon of light that wavered between all colours of the spectrum. A Wizard’s aura, she thought, and let the thought pass.

  The trickle turned into a rivulet and then, all at once, she felt The Flow of energy fill her like a torrent. Power coursed through her, filling her until she was that power. The white streams that surrounded everything were pulsing, glowing with life, with magic. Issa felt so alive and free she could leap up and fly away. The energy kept coming and soon the torrent was overwhelming and she fought to control it, beads of sweat formed on her forehead and her breath came fast. From far away Freydel’s voice drifted down to her.

  ‘Release some of the power! Don’t block it let it flow through you, you must let some go!’

  She felt something grasp her mind and recognised Freydel. Slowly the energy left her in waves of brilliant light until a trickle remained, again flowing gently through her.

  Freydel’s voice came from beside her, ‘Focus on the paper.’

  Issa focused on the crumpled scrap and imagined it on fire, little flames curling up its edges. She projected her image onto the paper. A ball of fire larger than her head exploded forwards from an area in front of her eyes straight into the crumpled paper. There was a blue flash and then an orange flare as the fireball made contact, obliterating the paper and the slab completely. Suddenly she wanted to call more ecstatic power to her and set everything on fire, and then she saw the destruction.

  Issa yelped in shock, and willed the fire away. The Flow dropped from her like a stone and, blessedly, the fire went out as quick as she had created it. She slumped back into the chair exhausted.

  Ash and blackened particles drifted down and settled upon the desk, chairs and her and Freydel; it was all that remained of his stone slab and anything else that had been in close proximity. There was a black scorch mark on the table where the fireball had hit. Through the settling dust, she looked at the Wizard sheepishly and was further shocked to see him smiling.

  ‘Amazing,’ he said, ‘It took me a week to do that when I was a novice. You had me worried for a moment there I thought you were going to explode. You drew far too much too soon, but with practice it will become easier,’ he beamed. ‘As you can see, using magic is not without a cost. The more energy you control, the more of your own energy it will take to control it. But that also gets easier with time as you become more adept. That was excellent for a beginner,’ he clapped in delight.

  Issa grinned in surprise at her success though there was a knot of fear in her stomach. Had he seen how terrified she was when the energy almost consumed her? She already wanted to feel it again, and more of it. A part of her had wanted to set everything on fire, to become the fire itself, pure beautiful energy. What was worse was she knew she could have done it, set the whole tower alight, and it was that which frightened her. She wiped the sweat from her forehead. She could still feel the energy around her, though it was little more than a tingle on the skin now.

  ‘It is not simply limited to creating fire either; one can control all the elements,’ Freydel said as he busied himself making a pot of tea, a smile set on his face. The more powerful you are the more things you can do. Of course, we still don’t know the limits of magic yet, or if indeed there are any. One thing is always true though; to recover from any use of magic requires rest, preferably deep sleep. The more adept you become the less rest is required.

  ‘You know animals and plants can wield their own type of magic?’ he said over his shoulder, ‘some species can use it and others not. Like that Harpy you saw, they can wield a lot of magic, whereas bluebirds can’t use it at all. No one knows why, for sure, but the Wizards and Seers of Maioria believe the older the species the greater their use of The Flow. Or perhaps it is the gods that decide.

  ‘Dragons are the strongest, followed by Elves, and then humans, but even then only the most adept humans can use it effectively. Now I had no real experience of ravens having magic before, they are always shy secretive creatures, but that raven of yours,’ he indicated to the window sill where it dozed as usual, ‘certainly has some ability to hide its presence, or appear from nowhere. It could be that they have magical abilities only when the blue moon is with us. I shall continue with my observations,’ he trailed off thoughtfully.

  ‘You are not as tired as you should be after that. I think you will one day be quite powerful in the arcane arts, with the correct tutoring of course,’ he mused, staring into his tea.

  Issa remembered the flying sea creatures she had seen last night and the potent magic that came from them. She told Freydel what had happened as she sipped her spiced apple tea, and he listened wide-eyed in silence.

  ‘Very few have seen the Wykiry. A truly magical being that you were blessed to see,’ he glanced at her, the steam from his mug curling up around his hat, ‘and it is my feeling that they will be with you whenever the White Beast is near, as they have been so far. You can find much comfort in that.’

  Issa smiled and then took a deep breath, ‘Something else happened,’ she said
, trying to find the words. ‘It’s this Daluni thing you mentioned, but more than that for it seems I don’t just communicate with animals, I somehow become the animal; I see and feel the world as they do. Not instead of them but with them, like we are sharing the same body, the same emotions. They too see and feel through me. I don’t know how it happens and I cannot seem to will it to happen. I get this headache you see,’ Freydel watched her intently, his face unreadable, ‘It’s like a pressure in the front of my head and then I know the shift is coming.’

  Freydel sat deep in thought and then pulled out a large book from under a torn, tattered map. Dust and age covered it making the title impossible to distinguish. It was so heavy he struggled to lift it. He flicked through the pages, coughing as dust spewed out from them. A third of the way in he stopped and traced the dense scrawling, ‘“…even the birds in the air, the fish in the sea, and the animals on land, will willingly be at their call for they are truly Daluni. But they will not command the crawling things, for they are linked to a different realm.”’ He closed the book and put it to one side.

  ‘Who are the Daluni?’ Issa asked, feeling the weight of prophecy heavy upon her.

  ‘Most of the Ancients were Daluni and many of the forest Elves. Karalanths, the deer people, are naturally,’ Freydel explained. ‘It is said to be a gift from Woetala so that we never forget we share the land with other creatures, even though we cannot speak with them verbally.

  ‘Daluni and a magic wielder, two gifts in one person is a lot of power but also a huge strain, we must make sure you are strong enough to hold both lest you be driven mad. I suspect my teaching will only go so far; it is likely we will have to seek others far from here who can teach you. Come let us go outside, I want to try something.’

  Issa followed him through the thick oak side door out onto the stone balcony circling the turret. The sun was high and hot and a few white clouds hung in the blue sky. The smell of the forest drifted up to them. Freydel surveyed the sky and his eyes came to rest on an eagle gliding high above the forest. They watched the bird’s flight as it effortlessly climbed the currents.

  ‘I want you to focus on the eagle. Try to willingly cause the shift in consciousness you described earlier.’

  Issa looked up uncertainly, ‘But I’ve no idea how to even try, it always kind of just happened to me, whether I wanted it or not.’

  ‘Just try,’ he said, ‘that is all you can do.’

  She nodded, what harm could trying do? Issa looked at the bird and emptied her mind of thoughts again. She could feel its presence and knew it had noticed her but she could not touch its mind fully. She let it go with a sigh and then tried again, but nothing came, she could only feel the eagle’s presence, nothing more. She sighed and gave up, ‘maybe it doesn’t work like that. Maybe it only happens when they want it to.’

  Freydel nodded, masking his disappointment, ‘ah well, you can but try, and these are of course early days,’ he said, and gave a reassuring smile. ‘I want you to practice feeling The Flow, but not using it, feeling it and letting it go. You must get used to feeling it like it is second nature. You must learn the control of not using it, no matter how good it feels. Otherwise it will be the master of you and not vice versa. Once you are used to it then I can show you how to hide your presence. Other magic users can often feel another in The Flow like a beacon in the night and that is very dangerous if they mean harm.’

  Issa nodded and after a moment asked, ‘Have you ever seen Keteth?’

  Freydel set his empty cup aside and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as if he were cold. ‘Yes, I have seen him only once from a great distance… I could feel his hate like a sickness that infects you and destroys you from within. I don’t think there is anything good left of the man he once was. Instead he has become a monster driven by hatred and greed.’

  ‘It seems to me that he is lost,’ she replied, somewhat saddened.

  Freydel sighed, ‘So many twists and turns in life that makes us what we are. Before they left this world the Ancients tried to destroy him, but their magic had grown weak as Baelthrom leeched it from the land. Baelthrom’s wrath was great upon them when he broke forth from his prison. He destroyed the very land on which they stood and drove them into the sea. There they met the White Beast and found death again. Sometimes when the tide is low and the waves are still and the world hangs between day and night, their sad songs can be heard like whispers on the wind.’

  Issa blinked away tears. I will not weep, I will avenge, I will do what must be done. There is no room for grieving. The sorrow she felt for the man that had been Keteth dissipated as she thought of those he had mercilessly slaughtered. She felt Karshur hidden in her pocket, she had not remembered putting it there. It was hot with hatred.

  Freydel brushed his hands together changing the subject, ‘Right, let’s start the next lesson.’ Her dark thoughts drifted away and she was glad to forget about the dagger and Keteth, keen to feel the magic coursing through her again.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  The Seer

  Hooves thundered past Triest’anth’s house on the edge of the Karalanth village. The old Karalanth set down the glass vial he was cleaning and went to investigate. Coronos did not notice him go or the commotion outside, so intent upon Asaph was he. Asaph had worsened in the night, his pale skin was now grey, his breathing shallow and sweat rolled off his body. Any water Coronos tried to feed him sent him into convulsions.

  Triest’anth returned moments later followed by the strangest looking woman Coronos had ever seen. He couldn’t hide the shock on his face when he saw the Seer for she was a White One, her smooth flawless skin so pale it was white, as was her long unbound hair. Her eyes were just the faintest pink. She wore blue robes, as did all Seers, and held a white birch staff. Despite her white hair she was not old but a young woman, though her eyes held much wisdom. She was small and slender but imposing at the same time. Her presence dominated the room.

  ‘Please meet the Seer, Naksu, Coronos,’ Triest’anth said.

  Both inclined their heads in greeting, the Seer regarding Coronos in the same casual way that he regarded her. He couldn’t explain why but he felt unsettled in the wise woman’s company, as if unused to female magic wielders, and she did little to ease it. Saying nothing she moved swiftly over to Asaph. Coronos wondered if she had sensed Asaph was a Dragon Lord, for Wizards and Seers alike could feel such things.

  Naksu closed her eyes and laid a smooth hand upon Asaph’s clammy forehead. His writhing stilled at her touch and he murmured. She took her hand away and opened her eyes. For a moment they were vivid blue with insight before returning to pale pink. Her face was grim.

  ‘Even though his body fades the wounds I can heal, but his mind I cannot. He lies somewhere between the Shadowlands and waking, his soul is too far gone for me to reach him. I fear he is already walking within Keteth’s own twisted world, his spirit trapped in the White Beast’s lair. If he were not a Dragon Lord he would have died days ago.’

  Coronos hung his head, not knowing what to do, and then grasped her slender shoulders more roughly than he intended and she winced. ‘What do you mean you cannot help him?’ Coronos spoke harshly, ‘we have waited for days and for what? Nothing? You must help him, you are all we have.’

  Triest’anth gently but firmly extracted Coronos’s hands from her shoulders. ‘Forgive my friend, this is his son and it has been a very taxing few days.’

  Naksu’s frown softened but did not disappear. She smoothed her robes, ‘As I said I can heal the wounds, and that in itself is no easy feat. But only he can free his soul from Keteth’s clutches, no one else can do this for him. Just pray to your Feygriene that she is with him.’

  Coronos’s spirit broke and his eyes misted over. ‘He is strong, yes, and one day he could become a mighty Dragon Lord. But he has had no training, no initiation; he has not mastered his power.’

  ‘Then you must pray and have hope, Draxian, now leave me to do wha
t I came to do,’ she said in finality. Naksu busied herself at Asaph’s side, pulling out small colourful vials and a candle from the pouches on her belt. She absorbed herself in her work, clearly forgetting they were there.

  ‘Seer Naksu, please use anything you need in my house and do not hesitate to ask for anything I do not have,’ Triest’anth offered. She nodded absently, lighting the candle with a flick of her finger as he took Coronos’s arm and gently led him outside.

  They waited in Cusap’anth’s house. His wife, Op’ynth, was a handsome, quiet woman and an excellent cook. She willingly served them food and spiced wine but Coronos could eat little of the meal for his stomach was twisted in worry.

  ‘The owl returned last night,’ Cusap’anth said after they had eaten. He fidgeted as if he was uncomfortable describing what the owl had shown him. ‘The girl is Daluni and though she was asleep she spoke to the owl with her mind, not in words but images from her subconscious. I saw those images but I do not profess to understand.

  ‘I saw a great storm that destroyed everything in its wake. It was symbolic, not a storm of wind and rain but of life and death, a storm of war. A war in which all the living must fight the dead or die. She urged us to be watchful, to make ready, for the time of our greatest trial is coming,’ the Karalanth trailed off.

  ‘We are between times, the dark moon heralds a new age,’ Coronos said thoughtfully. ‘Drax, blessed of Feygriene the Mother, has fallen. Now it seems the Night Goddess rises in her sister’s wake. The time of Zanufey the Warrior has come.’

  They sipped their wine in a long silence and watched the day turn to night but still there came no word. Coronos fidgeted constantly, ever looking to the door, expecting it to open at any moment. Cusap’anth and Op’ynth said their goodnights and went to bed, leaving Coronos and Triest’anth sat by the hearth.

  Coronos whispered so as not to wake them. ‘I owe you a great debt for housing and feeding us these past few days. I apologise for my manner at times, it is not easy.’

 

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