Chronicles of Galadria II - Encounters

by David Gay-Perret

  Glaide nodded slowly.

  “So they didn’t come for me?” he asked, timidly.

  “No, they were simply passing through.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  “I can tell from the diversity of our enemies: orks, black orks, goblins, chimeras, satyrs, and none with a clear leader. And besides, if they’d been after you, they would have tried to kill you as soon as you came on the scene, but as you saw for yourself, they focused on the militia.”

  His words reassured the young man, and as the protector and the magg joined them, he finally dared ask the question at the front of his mind.

  “How many casualties were there?”

  At that moment, a man – the leader of the village militia, judging by his armor – came to join them.

  “Thank you for your help, gentleman, my lady.”

  “What were our losses?” asked Kezthrem.

  “Minimal. I don’t think there was a single death, though there were a number of injured, some more seriously than others.” With that, he turned to Arline. “On that count, do you think...”

  She cut him off with a nod and a smile, saying, “I’m coming.”

  “In any case, we owe you all a debt of gratitude. Without you, the outcome would certainly have been much worse...” With that, the man moved away, accompanied by the young woman.

  “Come, Glaide,” said Kezthrem. “We have much to discuss.”

  With that, the two began to head away from the village.

  “I’m going to see if I can offer any help,” Ydref announced, heading in the other direction. Once the master and his student were far enough away that they could no longer hear the relieved cries of the citizens, the man spoke.

  “That was a magnificent fight, my young disciple.” Glaide said nothing, though his face reddened. “I noticed,” continued the man, ignoring the color in his disciple’s face, “that the black orks threw you for a moment. A bit of a reminder of your first encounter with them, near Fyth, I suppose?”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “And have you exorcised that memory? Have you conquered your fear?”

  “Yes,” the young man responded without hesitation. “I even found that fight easy...”

  “Then you are ready for our departure, tomorrow.”

  “We aren’t going to hold off?” asked the young man, astonished.

  “Why? These people don’t need us. This evening, there will likely be a great feast to celebrate the victory, and we will participate in it, but then, we’ll have to go.”

  “Right.”

  Kezthrem paused for a moment, appearing deep in thought, then asked, “Tell me, what did you think of the satyrs?”

  “Mmm... They’re excellent fighters. Fast and efficient. But I was distracted by the presence of Arline behind me. I couldn’t concentrate. I tried to see if she was okay, and if she was in danger...”

  The man sighed. “Faced with such enemies, you have to count on your magg, on Emily. It is her job to protect you. If we had more time, you could learn more about confronting them, but as things stand, the most important thing is having confidence in the young woman behind you. If you had kept your concentration up, you would have been able to defeat them, but your thoughts were muddled and confused, and made you vulnerable. Arline is very talented, and knows how to use her powers, which is not yet the case with Emily. She would not be able to stand as many blows as Ydref’s magg.”

  “What do you mean?” asked the young man.

  “The defense that a white magician creates is practically impenetrable, but every attack it receives weakens its creator. To give you an idea of what that means, if a demon struck such a shield, he would break it apart, and the magg would certainly faint, weakened to the extreme. However, the one that it was protecting would not have been harmed. Of course, in my example, the demon wouldn’t hesitate to strike again to kill his adversary.”

  “So what you mean, then,” Glaide said in summary, “is that each attack from the satyrs that struck the shield weakened Arline.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And that Emily wouldn’t have been able to hold out as long.”

  “That is exactly what I mean.”

  “Oh... Then it is important that I always pay attention...”

  Kezthrem nodded. “So then,” he continued, “let’s head to the village. Perhaps they could use our help.”

  Chapter 35

  THE battle had taken most of the afternoon, and it was just as evening began that the bodies of the creatures, gathered into a great pile, were finally buried. As Kezthrem had predicted, they had a great celebration, both in honor of the four warriors that had lent a hand to the militia, as well as in honor of the first battle fought to preserve the new village. To the young man, it almost seemed to be a sort of housewarming party, à la Galadria. He asked that Ydref, Arline, and Gelden keep his identity a secret, at least as long as he remained there.

  They agreed, though begrudgingly, as they saw this first victory beside the young man as “the awakening of the Destroyer”. The young Destroyer in question, however, saw it as only the first of many steps leading towards his friends and his future. Really, he found it difficult to understand how they could be so excited about these minor exploits, when he placed so little importance on them. Until he was again with Jeremy, Gwenn, and Emily, he considered himself nothing more than an apprentice, and there was still much that he had to learn. Once his training was finished, then – and only then – would he try to live up to the prestigious title of “the Destroyer”.

  The disciple and his master didn’t stay out too late that night. They had a long journey ahead of them, and they wanted to get some rest. They waved to the magg and her protector, who informed them that they planned to remain for at least a few more days, just in case more monsters attacked. Then, the two left, amidst the cheers of the crowd. Once they reached the house, and before they went to bed, Kezthrem lit a few candles, and the two headed into the dojo for a while.

  “I still have a few things to tell you,” began the man.

  Glaide held back a yawn with difficulty, then sat down beside his master. They had opened the new sliding walls, so that they could look up at the stars, and the flickering light of the candles, the only glow of light among the shadows, made the scene seem magical.

  The young man breathed in a lungful of the night air, and felt a sense of calm and comfort fill him. He had just experienced a great victory, and he was prepared to leave for an unknown destination – which was synonymous with adventure – and above all else, he was here, on Galadria. That simple observation, one he hadn’t made for a while, drew a sigh of happiness from him. Since his training had begun, he’d almost forgotten what all had happened to him. He’d concentrated so hard on the techniques, and on his goals, that in the process, his vision had been obscured and he’d forgotten that in the end, it didn’t matter what happened to him, because he was living in The Other World.

  “Are you listening, Glaide?” asked Kezthrem.

  “Oh! Excuse me, master,” he responded, embarrassed. “I was lost in my own thoughts.”

  “What I was explaining to you is very important, so try to concentrate.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m listening.”

  The man looked at his disciple for a moment, as if making sure, then continued.

  “You may not have noticed, but, during the battle, much like Tyv and Paeh, Ydref and Arline used the Blade of Light.”

  “You mean where white magic is transferred into a blade.”

  “Exactly. Let me explain to you a bit about how that happens. You should know that I’m telling you this because it has to do with our destination. So, the Blade of Light. As you have so aptly stated, it consists of breathing some of the power of a magg into the blade of a protector, so that his weapon becomes more efficient.”

  “But how, master?” asked the adolescent, deeply interested.

  “That is the part that is difficult to expla
in. It is a question of mutual trust and coordination. But that is not what I want to speak to you about. I want you to understand what that energy is.”

  The boy looked surprised. “It’s white magic... the same that lets them heal or protect. The magical flux in its purest state.”

  “And that’s where you’re wrong. The power given to a protector’s blade does not come directly from the magg. It comes from inside him: the protector.”

  The boy felt lost, and decided to let the man continue without interruption.

  “Actually, in the process that leads to the Blade of Light, the magician acts only as a sort of filter. Really, the power comes from the hatred the warrior has for his enemies. The magg’s role is to feel that, to take control of it and free it from her protector, then transform it into white energy, which she returns to the blade.”

  Glaide’s eyes widened. “A filter...” he murmured.

  “However, during that transformation, some of the initial strength is lost, because the nature of the emotion is modified. Emotions like hatred, along with rage and resentment, are harmful and destructive, and the magg has to convert them into light, into positive emotion.”

  Glaide nodded. “So you mean, then, that the hatred of a protector, a negative thing, leaves the heart of the warrior, is combined with the magg, loses some strength, and is turned into light and goodness. At the same time, it becomes useful in battle.”

  “Your anger, as long as it is used well, can be extremely powerful, but before an ork, light will always be stronger than anger. But now imagine that we could use the entirety of the rage of a protector as light. The increase in power would be considerable. It is possible that magic created in that way would be even more powerful than the Blade of Light.”

  “But how could that be possible?” the adolescent demanded.

  “That is the role of eorens, or more particularly of one eoren.”

  The boy thought for a moment, then his face brightened. “A white eoren... the eoren of light,” he murmured. “The one that’s in the library of Shinozuka, with the Book of Eternal Twilight.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Incredible. And no one knows the true significance of it.”

  “However, be careful, my young disciple,” warned Kezthrem. “Such an object has a limited capacity. The protector that uses it would never be able to transform all of his hate.”

  “Has someone already tried, then?”

  “Actually, no. All of this information comes from notes my ancestor, Dzen, made. I think that you will be the first to use that eoren. But now imagine a hatred that isn’t filtered by a magg, and isn’t limited by an object, and that can be transformed into white magic; the power of Darkness for the Light.”

  The young man easily understood that such a power would be immeasurable, but he still couldn’t understand exactly what his master was saying. The older man must have realized that, though, because he continued to speak.

  “Glaide, I’m talking about the power of the Destroyer.”

  “Wh... what?” stammered the adolescent. “The Destroyer is supposed to be able to overpower all of his negative emotions, and turn them into positive energy?”

  Kezthrem nodded gravely.

  “But then, why hasn’t anyone else done that?” the boy exclaimed.

  “Because we don’t know any way to prevent the hatred of a protector from being limited.”

  “Dzen found a way.”

  “Yes, and at the time, he mentioned a katana.”

  “Of course... The one you mentioned a few months before. I remember, too, that you never told me how he came into possession of the weapon.”

  “Well, that is what our journey is about. The place we are going is the place where this sword is kept.”

  “I see...” murmured Glaide. “And you think that the katana will bring me answers. That reminds me of a man, a weapons merchant, that I met in Shinozuka. He said there was a place where katanas and weapons like them are forged. Do you think he was talking about that place?”

  “Certainly, although he was wrong. There is no forge there. The inhabitants are simply content to guard the saber of my ancestor. However, many things have become jumbled up in the minds of the people, and the place where the last katana was seen has become transformed, bit by bit, into a mythical place where such weapons are still being made today.”

  “I see,” he replied softly. “So we are going to see the legendary blade. Who knows... with a bit of luck, it will help me with my task!”

  Kezthrem nodded, then the two headed for their rooms.

  They awoke early the next morning. It was still dark, and Glaide was half asleep as they left the house behind and headed east. After they had walked several hundred yards, the young man suddenly felt a desire to turn around. In the distance, in the dusky morning light, he could barely make out the contours of the building.

  “Will I ever return?” he asked, a tinge of melancholy filling the thought. He had spent four months in that home, and it represented many thing to him: a new departure, but also an encounter with the one that he had abandoned everything else to find.

  “Perhaps I’ll return, but one thing is sure: the time that I may spend there in the future will never be like the time that has just passed. Many things remain for me to discover, and to live out. I don’t have time to dwell on the past. But it has built up my future, and this place saw me change a great deal. I was lost when I came, but now, I leave as a warrior, proud and strong.”

  Then, seeing that Kezthrem had continued on his way, and was already disappearing in the distance, Glaide rushed to catch up.

  “The adventure continues,” he murmured with a smile.

  The master and the disciple, two shadowy silhouettes in the distance, advanced side by side towards the horizon, which was already taking on its rosy tint as, bit by bit, the sun began its journey through the immensity of the sky.

  End of Volume 2

  The adventure continues in “Chronicles of Galadria III: Lessons”

  And so ends the second volume of the adventures of Glaide.

  If you’ve reached this point, you’ve probably already read and enjoyed the first volume. Are you ready for what is to come? Galadria has many more secrets to share with you, and the volume to come will clarify many things.

  Don’t forget to leave a comment wherever you procured this book. That will help other readers know if the book is for them, and I’d love to know what you’ve thought of it myself.

  To prolong the adventure, why not listen to the music associated with the story that I composed myself? If that interests you, the tracks are available on Jamendo (as a series of albums entitled “Chroniques de l’Autre Monde”), and I can also suggest a combination of music paired with text from the books, available on Youtube (as a playlist entitled “Chronicles of Galadria”).

  At last don’t hesitate to visit www.gayperret.com, (under Music, My Compositions, Chroniques de l’Autre Monde) for more information.

  If you wish to contact me, don’t hesitate to send me an email (I speak French, English, and Swedish) at david.gayperret@gmail.com!

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