Why here, he thought, lost in darkness at the bottom of the Valimere? My journey hasn’t even begun.
He dwelt on the thought for a moment before his body crumpled, and he fell into the darkness of the storm and the ravine.
His body floated upward, lifted by unseen hands. Massive arms cradled him and kept him safe, and in their embrace, the spirits of the Currents were close by. They told Darr he hadn’t failed. His journey was only beginning. A warm drowsiness slipped over him. The spirits’ words slipped through his mind, and he slept.
* * * *
When Darr woke, a fire crackled before him, hot and bright. The close confines of a cave surrounded him, but his exact whereabouts were a total mystery. The Summoner raised his body to a sitting position and crossed his legs before him. Directly across from him, on the other side of the fire, not more than a few feet away, the cave entrance opened. Outside the storm swept on unabated, but now it felt miles away.
His pack lay beside him, unharmed. Oddly, his clothes were completely dry. He reached up to the tender spot on his face from when he’d fallen climbing the Valimere, touching it experimentally, only to find it no longer hurt. Was the whole thing a dream? The only solid thought standing out was of the Archon.
His breath caught in his throat at the memory, and the layers of confusion clouding his mind peeled away.
“Come awake now, have you,” a voice rumbled from somewhere back in the cave.
Darr leapt to his feet. The voice, while startling, didn’t frighten him. He stood with his back to the fire and peered into the darkness of the cave. A massive shape materialized--a robed figure outlined by the firelight--the Archon who’d rescued him.
The Summoner took a short breath and a step forward to get a closer look at his mysterious rescuer, but suddenly the spirit creature rose up before him. Darr fell back, in awe by the sheer size of the giant who’d have dwarfed Nidic Waq. The Archon took a meager two steps, effortlessly closing the distance between the back of the cave and the fire, and hunched down in front of its warm light.
Darr looked over at his rescuer. He smiled cheerfully, as if somehow amused. The Archon had human features, though he had the appearance of being hewn from stone, the flesh of his face all planes and angles. His hair fell short around his ears, an earthy brown color, but his eyes gave him away as a spirit creature. His eyes were a perfect shade of emerald, shining green through the orange tint of the fire.
Darr caught himself staring and quickly looked down at the fire. “Did I summon you?” he asked.
The Archon shook with great booming laughs, the depth of his voice barreling out of his hulking body. Darr stared in mute horror, appalled at the spirit creature’s outburst. Did the Archon laugh out of pity for him or amusement? Whatever the reasons, Darr shrunk before the roaring echo.
The Archon appeared to sense his discomfort and silenced himself, holding out one of his large hands in apology. “I am sorry, young Reintol. I meant you no harm,” the deep voice coaxed. “I thought you were playing a joke on me.”
Darr shook his head warily and reached out to the Archon’s hand. As soon as they touched, the Summoner felt the same connection with the Currents he’d experienced on the slopes of the Valimere and quickly drew his hand back.
The Archon smiled and sat back from the fire. “My name is Racall, and I am the Archon of Earth. But you knew that when you touched me, is that not right?”
Darr nodded, but kept his gaze level. “How are you here?” he asked.
“As an Archon, I can pass freely between the spiritual and physical realms because I am composed of both. My flesh is born from the essence of my element.”
“You’re an elemental,” Darr stated.
Racall smiled and shook his head. “No. Elementals are a result of imbalance between the Sephirs.”
Darr twisted his mouth in confusion. “So what are you?”
“Balance,” the deep voice soothed. “Or rather, I am the embodiment of balance. The Sephirs spread their magic across the Currents like a net, and this magic manifests itself in Ictar as the Four Elements. This is what we call nature, and it is the only thing holding back chaos--the true, uninhabitable form of this world. As long as the Light of the Sephirs flows freely and equally, the binding on chaos will hold.”
“That sounds awfully complex,” Darr said. “I always thought the Archons were extensions of each element.”
Racall nodded his head. “We are, Summoner. But we are also the extensions of balance, the sentient voices of the Sephirs, and the wielders of their magic. Without us, the Sephirs would quickly become unbalanced and fail. Chaos would return, as well as other evils.”
“You’re talking about the Devoid, aren’t you?” Darr asked.
Racall’s gaze lowered. “Nidic Waq had to tell you. It is not easy information to hear, but you had to know in order to make an informed decision to help.”
Darr shook his head. “The story of the Ancient Ictarians is just a story though. I never imagined any of that could be real. All of this is so strange. The Light and the Currents and the Devoid…no one ever taught me any of this.”
The Archon of Earth remained motionless. “New things come to us everyday,” he said. “We are constantly presented with new information and facts as we live our everyday lives. You can believe something, but not learn from it, and you can learn from something, but not believe in it. What matters is that you choose one or the other.”
Darr stared up at the Archon, lost in the principles of his words. “And what do you think, Racall? What do you think I should do with the information presented?”
The spirit creature’s smile deepened. “Learn how to summon. Navigate the Currents so you can help bring some balance back to the Sephirs.”
The Archon’s surreal green eyes mystified Darr. Racall told him almost exactly what Nidic Waq had. Yet, unlike the prophet, Racall had a more trusting demeanor. The Summoner believed the bond they shared through the Currents allowed this trust. Though the workings of the Currents were new to him, he’d learned lying was difficult, if not impossible there. Emotions and memories alike were laid bare. The realization startled him.
Uncomfortable with his thoughts, the Summoner kicked at a piece of deadwood in the fire, sending up a swirl of sparks. He forged ahead into the thick of his concerns. “Racall, why did you laugh when I asked if I summoned you?”
A broad smile crossed the Archon’s face. “I already told you. I thought you were joking.” Darr gave him a tired look, and Racall’s smile faded. “In all honesty, I thought you were more experienced, but I see now you have much to learn. However...” The spirit creature looked upward as if searching for something. “...in a manner of speaking, you did summon me, though not in the way you are thinking. I am the guide Nidic Waq sent for you, and I’ve been searching for you for some time. Your cries on the mountain are what brought me.”
The Summoner cocked his head and let the thought sink in. It had never occurred to him that Racall might be his guide. It should’ve been obvious to him by now. He supposed he expected someone more...
“Human.” Racall finished his thought, ripping the word out of his mind. “Yes, the prophet likes his surprises. But, who better to train a Spirit Summoner than a spirit creature? Who better to guide you through the land ahead than one who is composed of it?”
Racall appeared delighted at the idea, but Darr was angry. Nidic Waq admittedly withheld information, but it appalled Darr that the prophet had done something as life altering as sending an Archon without saying anything beforehand. Darr had expressed his doubts about magic and spirits. It seemed to him the prophet had understood. Instead, Nidic Waq had shattered his beliefs in one swift strike. It made him wonder what else the prophet had in store for him.
Racall hunched forward, distracting him. “Don’t let Nidic Waq’s intentions trouble you, young Reintol. Caeranol and his emissary have served Ictar faithfully for a long time, and I assure you neither means you harm. The prophet has a
n agenda to meet, and you fall into that agenda. He does what is necessary to let you fall into place.”
“You mean let me fall where he wants me,” Darr retorted.
Racall shrugged his shoulders as if to say they were the same.
Darr studied the Archon’s impassive, yet cheerful demeanor. Racall was a paradox of human traits and emotions, but Darr grew accustomed to him rapidly. The Archon was kindred. The weight of authority Nidic Waq had commanded didn't exist with Racall. The spirit creature treated him as an equal, despite the fact they had differences between them that Darr couldn’t fathom.
He glanced up at the cave entrance and out into the darkness of the night. At last, the storm died off outside, turning away from its harsh pounding of rain to a soft pattering. How long had he been up in the Valimere? He really had no idea.
“You better get to sleep, young Reintol,” Racall told him, more of a suggestion than an order. “We will start our journey through the Valimere and the exploration of your abilities tomorrow.”
Darr nodded, feeling a slow exhaustion seep through him. He wrenched his blanket free from his pack and lay down beside the fire, wrapping himself up tightly.
His last thoughts were of the wonders in store for him tomorrow.
* * * *
When morning came, Darr found himself alone. The fire had burned to ash and the storm had subsided, giving way to sunlight. He woke disoriented, like the night before, but within a few moments, his memories returned to him, doubts and uncertainties accompanying them. The events of the last couple of days had left him hollowed out, from his decision to leave Tyfor, to the revelations blazing truth to his misconceptions.
Darr leaned back against the cave wall and reached into his pack for a hunk of cheese and a piece of fruit. He chewed mechanically on the food. What would his father think of him if he knew the truth of his situation? Would he approve of all the lying and trickery he’d used? His father wouldn’t be proud of him for not being truthful in the first place. Like everything else that had happened so far, there wasn’t much point in worrying about it. Better to forge ahead and not think of the mistakes he’d made.
Refreshed by his new state of mind and a full stomach, Darr stuffed his blanket into his pack and tied it off. He couldn’t hide his eagerness to find Racall and start on the way to Stern. Most likely, they would have to retrace their steps through the ravine and down the foothills in order to get back on the trail to Trenton Pass. He hefted his pack over his shoulders, cinched it into place, and walked indifferently into the morning sunlight.
Darr expected to find himself within the ravine. Instead, he found himself within Trenton Pass, identified by the towering peaks of the Valimere on either side of him. More surprising, he emerged into a landscape with the look and feel of spring. Luscious green grasses, dotted with white and yellow wildflowers, littered the floor of the pass stretching upward into the mountains. Trees, both deciduous and conifer shone brilliantly with morning dew, exhibiting not a trace of fall’s corrosion. The Summoner breathed deeply and his lungs and nose were filled with the sweet scents of soil, flowers, and pine.
He started to examine a nearby shrub when a huge, dark shadow fell over him. “I see you slept well, young Reintol,” Racall said, his voice deep and sober.
Darr nodded and looked up at the Archon. “Racall, what’s going on here? What’re we doing here in the Trenton? I thought we were down on the slopes. And what’s going on with these trees? Did I sleep through the winter?”
The spirit creature smiled quickly, and turned to face his charge. “No, no, Summoner. You are fine. The reason you are in Trenton Pass is because I brought you here.”
Darr gave the Archon a blank stare.
“After you collapsed in the foothills, I carried you the rest of the way to the pass. Archons are not subject to the same physical constraints as humans. The magic of the Sephirs is what sustains us.”
Darr tried to imagine Racall carrying him through the ravine and up the mountain to the pass. Such a task would have been formidable for the strongest of men, yet the Archon brushed it off as something less than an inconvenience. Racall’s gaze turned back towards the lush greenery of Trenton Pass, a lost look lingering in his eyes.
“As for the upset in nature you see before you,” the Archon began, “this is what happens when there is unbalance between the elements. This is chaos reclaiming Ictar.”
Shaking his head in confusion, Darr stepped forward to block the Archon’s view. “But, Racall, this is beautiful. It’s the middle of winter and it looks like the first day of spring up here. If this is chaos, maybe chaos should come more often.”
Racall didn’t move. His massive form went rigid, and his emerald eyes never once left the landscape before them. “No, Darr, you are wrong. What you see before you is the beginning of nature’s slide towards chaos. The Sephirs are losing their Light, and the Four Elements are losing coherency--they are losing balance. Their magic runs unchecked through the Currents and into Ictar. Everyday, it becomes harder for the Archons to stretch the thinning magic.”
Understanding turned Darr’s skin cold as he looked up at the sad eyes of the Earth Archon. “This is because of the Devoid, isn’t it?”
Racall only nodded and walked up into the pass. It took a moment for Darr to recover from his shock. He ran to catch up with the Archon.
They traveled through the day, and the landscape remained unchanged as they went. A beautiful catastrophe, Darr thought.
“During the summer, the southern lands around Fora Lake were razed by thunderstorms,” Racall said. “The Elven capital of Exed received nearly a foot of snow during what should have been the hottest day of the year. Most everyone believes these are freak occurences, but that will not last.”
Darr looked up at him and asked, “Why?”
With a nod, Racall said, “Because the Lourcient River has gone dry. The races of Ictar will not be able to ignore that.”
When they stopped around nightfall, underneath a deep recess in a cliff, Darr asked Racall what lay in store for him when they reached Stern. They sat before a fire, though the Archon appeared to be acting as if he required warmth, whereas Darr had to pull his cloak tight in order to shut out the cold.
“So, if the Lourcient River has dried up, it must be the Seekers draining the Water Sephir’s magic,” Darr reasoned. “But how could they do that when the Sephir is protected by the Divine? It’s not like they could go into the Currents because isn’t that what the Archons do--protect against invasions?”
Racall nodded, and Darr’s eyes widened in disbelief at his next thought.
“Could someone have stolen it--the Sephir, I mean?”
“Very good, young Reintol,” the Archon said, his face beaming. “In the physical world, one must be in possession of a Sephir in order to use its power. Just think of the destruction the races would have caused during the Aeon Wars had they known of a way to use the magic without the need for the Sephirs. Spirit Summoners could have changed the direction of history.”
Darr shook his head, shrugging off Racall’s speculation. “So one of the Seekers stole the Sephir of Water and is now draining it of its Light.”
Racall shook his head. “Not the Soul Seekers, young Reintol. The Devoid created the Seekers for one purpose, to collect the Light from the living. It summoned something else to drain the Sephirs, something more efficient.”
“Regardless, how am I supposed to restore the Sephir?” Darr asked with a hint of frustration building in his voice.
Racall’s eyes were steady and focused on Darr. “You can learn, young Reintol. It will take time, and you will have to be patient, but you can learn how to navigate the Currents and summon the magic of the Sephirs.”
The desperation faded out of Darr as he sensed Racall’s sincerity. “How?” Darr asked.
The Archon of Earth smiled warmly and reached over to pat the Summoner on the shoulder. Racall shifted his body so he could sit closer to Darr. “The only w
ay you will ever be able to walk the paths of the Currents is if you learn to hear the spirits, not shut them out. To the untrained ear, their voices are vague and jumbled, but the spirits are a collective voice. Do you know what that means?”
Darr nodded faintly. “I think so.”
“It means the spirits are a multitude of memories and knowledge, all different and all with different things to say, but they speak and think in harmony with one another, a constant sharing of their knowledge. It is a sensation unlike any you will feel here in the physical world, but one you must grow accustomed to in the Currents. Now do you see why it is hard to listen?”
Racall’s voice, so smooth and easy to listen to, lightened the stress of facing the spirits for the first time. The Archon closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Now, I want you to concentrate in the same way you learned to shut out the spirits, but instead, I want you to listen. I’ll be with you, should anything go wrong.”
Darr watched Racall’s still form for a moment, his body a mountain before him. He used the image of the massive Archon to gather his courage. He took a deep breath and opened his mind to the spirits. They came to him in an instant, and despite his preparations, they flooded his ears with hundreds of buzzing voices. The Summoner continued his breathing, following Racall’s instructions, trying to listen, rather than shut out the voices. The spirits grew more intense, their voices louder and more jumbled. Panic set in and Darr opened his eyes in a short yelp, interrupting his breathing. For a few short moments, the spirits were still with him as he stared dizzily at the fire blazing before him, their voices still mixed and indistinct.
The Children of the Light: Book 1: Spirit Summoner Page 5