The Silvering of Loran

by G. B. WREN

  Topen moved to Liam’s horse and gently rubbed the animal’s nose—calming his growing restlessness.

  “It is possible, but if he was saved in such a manner by Nepsaril, it was not for a purpose that would see your father survive,” revealed Topen.

  “Could my father be alive?”

  “It’s better that you remember him as you have. Your father is gone.”

  Liam’s face contorted with sternness. He abruptly guided his horse away from Topen and glared down at him.

  “If you have any knowledge of my father, I have the right to it,” demanded Liam—his agitation revealed a scar that had not fully healed.

  “I am not withholding any information that changes the loss of your father. But I will guarantee you this; after we have set things right in this land, I will investigate your father’s death, and will leave nothing untold of my discoveries.”

  Liam felt Topen’s promise was fraught with thorny snares, and perhaps he should take his advice and leave the memory of his father intact, but it was not in his nature to ignore information he could act upon.

  “That is an oath I will hold you to . . . wizard.”

  * * *

  When Topen re-entered Loran’s chamber, Leanna and her children had gathered by the ornate mirror—animated in their motions and enveloped by hushed laughter. Loran was recalling—with as much humor as she could muster—her first meeting with Topen and her experience of being invisible. Topen observed silently and delighted in their joy. As she savored her laughter, Loran noticed that Topen had rejoined them. Her eyes fixed on his and summoned him to share in their delight, but as their eyes remained locked, Loran recognized that there was a deeper urge that had stirred her invitation.

  It was at this moment that Topen allowed himself to feel great affection towards Loran. He imagined it was the long hours without rest before he arrived in this land, or the longer hours since, that caused him to let down his guard. But he seemingly had no control over his warm smile that answered Loran’s gaze, or his feet as they led him towards her.

  When Leanna noticed Topen approaching them, she regained her composure.

  “Did Liam get on his way safely?” Leanna asked.

  Topen nodded.

  “We better get some rest before the dawn sneaks up on us,” said Rolam. “You are welcome to rest in my chambers, Topen. I’m sure we can find suitable bedding to make you comfortable.”

  “No!” Loran cried out. Her impulsiveness caught the others by surprise, and herself as well. “Topen must return briefly to his land and—” Loran realized there was no way out of the embarrassment she had created for herself.

  Topen relieved her of further comment with an announcement.

  “After the revelations and the plans made this night, I will need to remain here another day. I cannot leave you defenseless against magic in my absence. Loran must be able to achieve the silvering, and I will do what I can to help her.”

  “I will see that Topen is provided a suitable place of rest tonight,” said Loran.

  “Loran, I do not—” Leanna began.

  “Mother, I am capable of guiding my own destiny,” whispered Loran, as she leaned in close to her mother.

  Leanna looked at Topen, and then her daughter. She reached for Loran’s hand and patted it with affection.

  “Yes, my daughter. You are.”

  “Well then, I am off for what sleep I can manage,” declared Rolam. “I wish you all a pleasant night’s rest, what’s left of it,” he said, before he crossed the room towards the exit.

  “As do I,” said Leanna, and followed Rolam out.

  Loran turned to Topen and suddenly found it difficult to keep eye contact; the sixteen years she has held affection for him filled her head and fluttered in her heart. But even now, she dared not act upon it, there was too much at risk—not just for her family, but for the destiny she so much desired.

  “I may have spoken in haste,” said Loran. “I’m not sure how comfortable you would be—”

  “I do not wish my presence to cause you concern, I will return after you have rested.”

  Loran fidgeted as she watched Topen leave. Her mind knew that he would return, but her heart ached that he would not.

  “Wait!” she yelled out. “Please ignore my childishness, Topen. I will bring out some bedding so you may make yourself comfortable.”

  Topen stood where he paused, and Loran swiftly disappeared into the other room. When she returned, Topen had moved to stand before her mirror. He admired its decorative frame and his fingers caressed the intricate pattern of its construction.

  “You will not have full access to your abilities until you achieve the silvering,” Topen spoke reflectively. “There is only one way to assure your success,” he said, but with some reluctance.

  Loran laid the bedding she carried on the bench near her bed and walked to her mirror.

  “You speak as if you fear to tell me of this method.”

  “It is a very . . . intimate experience, normally shared between couples as a means to join within the silvering.”

  “Join? In what way?”

  “A couple will initiate a bonded silvering. They would enter together, and in doing so, share in the emotions and some of the memories of the other.”

  The idea that her inner most feelings and memories would be beyond her control to disclose scared Loran. Her fear was apparent to Topen, and he sought to reduce her anxiety.

  “But in your instance, since you have not achieved a silvering on your own, you only will receive feelings and memories from me. You do not yet have the ability to share with another.”

  “I will know your feelings, but you will not know mine,” Loran confirmed.

  “Yes,” Topen replied. “After this bonding, you will be able to achieve the silvering on your own, because in an instant you will feel as if you have done it a thousand times—it will forever be natural for you.”

  Loran paced away from the mirror and considered what Topen had proposed.

  “This will only be by your choice, Loran. If you decide you wish to continue your efforts without the bonding, I will assist in any way I can when I return.”

  “There is no need to wait until daybreak, let us do this now,” Loran insisted. She marched back to the mirror. “What do I need to do?”

  “You can either place your hands on the mirror or stand with your back to it. I will approach very close, and then . . . carry you with me as I pass through you.”

  “You will pass through me?”

  “It is the moment of the bonding.”

  Loran turned to view her reflection in the mirror, and placed her hand on the glass. She could see Topen’s reflection as he stood behind her. Suddenly, she spun and pressed her back firmly against the mirror, her eyes fixed on Topen’s.

  Loran’s boldness gave him pause, as he knew the intimacy he would share with Loran would be intense, and there was still that vow he made to Leanna twelve years ago—that he would always consider Loran’s emotions.

  His hesitation was brief.

  Topen moved inches from Loran’s face; she never diverted her eyes from his, and instinctively responded with deeper breaths. He brought his hands to hers and clasped them together. He inched ever closer, their bodies pressed firmly against each other. Loran swallowed hard and nervously moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue when she felt Topen’s breath on them. Time seemed to stand still, the intensity of the moment lingered, until . . . .

  Topen’s body began to glow, and soon, Loran’s did the same. Loran gasped when their bodies merged and passed into the mirror. Emotions and memories that were not her own overwhelmed her. She saw glimpses of Topen when he was young and forced to use the blackened stones, a battle between Topen and Nepsaril during the castle war, the day of her sixteenth birthday from Topen’s view when she waved good-by to him in the hall—so many other images that she could not retain them all in her mind.

  However, one memory and strong emotion sto
od out from the others, and it had occurred just recently in her chamber—it was Topen viewing her laughter and realizing he had crossed the boundary between protector and friendship, to love—no, it wasn’t quite love, she determined, it was yearning for it, and much more.

  Their bodies no longer glowed when Loran snapped into focus, surrounded by a great circular barrier of shimmering silver. Topen held Loran in his arms and steadied her from the dizziness that weakened her legs.

  “The lightheadedness will pass quickly,” said Topen when he released her. “What you see around you is the source of the liquid that powers the stones. This is the silvering pond.”

  “It seems alive,” said Loran.

  She reached out to touch the pulsating liquid, but her hand passed through it without making contact, as if it was just an illusion.

  “This is not your silvering, it is mine.” Topen explained. “The pond will not allow you access until it knows you—when you have come here through your own efforts.”

  “That is why I must allow vulnerability, so it can know me,” Loran proclaimed, now that she understood the silvering ritual. “It seems so simple now.”

  Topen withdrew a small bottle from his pocket and touched its opening to the liquid. The wall of silver responded by pouring from itself and filling the bottle. He placed the bottle back into his pocket.

  “So, that is how you obtain the liquid,” she remarked.

  “It is one way, there are others.” Topen removed his cloak and placed the inner silver side close to the liquid. The silvering pond responded by flowing into the material of his cloak.

  “What is happening?”

  “My cloak allows the silvering to flow through me. It is the same with jewelry or other adornments worn that have been fashioned from the liquid you see here.”

  “Like the bracelets you wore during the celebration of my brothers’ sixteenth birthday,” recalled Loran.

  Topen nodded.

  “Then, can we summon magic without the silvering solution?” Loran asked.

  “Once you have completed your first silvering, your magical abilities are yours to command, the silvering will always be a part of you, and you can use the stones without pouring the solution upon them. But you will tire quickly with the use of your magic without the silvering flowing through you, and it will not be as strong.”

  “Is it alive?” Loran asked. “The silvering pond.”

  “The silvering has been in every land that I have traveled, and there has not been a single instance that I did not feel welcomed when standing before it,” said Topen. “Are you ready to return?”

  Loran nodded and wondered if the return would be as intense as the arrival. Topen turned around, and with a swipe of his hand, the silvering liquid parted and revealed a view of Loran’s bed from inside the mirror.

  “Just step through,” Topen instructed.

  Loran first put her hand out to see if the glass was solid. It pierced its surface and ripples emanated along the glass—as she had witnessed with Topen. She then stepped all the way through the glass, with Topen close behind.

  “I understand it now,” murmured Loran. “Your emotions were so intense, and so many of your memories passed so quickly.”

  “Some will remain with you, and others will fade as your own memories do.”

  “I feel like I could sleep for days,” said Loran.

  She covered her mouth to mask her yawn.

  Topen retrieved the bedding that Loran had placed on her bench and took it near the entrance of her chamber. Loran followed him to his destination.

  “Are you going to sleep there?” Loran asked.

  “You need to rest, undisturbed by my company,” insisted Topen. “When you awake, you can complete the silvering on your own. I will leave with you two stones, and the understanding you need to safeguard your family until I return.”

  Although Loran knew that Topen was sincere and dedicated in his quest to protect all of her family, she was confused. The bonding had allowed her to feel Topen’s passion in a way she could not have imagined, and it gave her the knowledge of his desire to share love. Still, Topen kept his distance, and gave no sign of the deep feeling she knew he held for her. Maybe he hoped she did not detect his emotions, she wondered, or perhaps he felt it was not yet time to act upon his desires. The destiny Loran dreamt for was no more than six feet from her reach, but she turned away.

  Topen fashioned a place to rest for the few remaining hours of the night. And although Loran missed seeing Topen’s attentive eyes on her as she ambled to her bed, she needed no further proof of his wants. A life with Topen is possible, she thought. Loran turned down her covers and crawled into bed. She rotated to see Topen lay onto the nest he had built, closed her eyes, and fell into a pleasant slumber.

  Chapter Eleven

  A BARGAIN

  THE SMALL SHOP, CUT BETWEEN the larger buildings adjoining it, advertised itself as a curio shop for rare magical artifacts—which was not unusual to find on this narrow street in Topen’s realm. There were several other such shops boasting equal claims along this busy lane. Not many knew of the value of the artifacts this shop kept secret—hidden behind the protection of magical barriers—but the patron who had just entered through the unassuming door at the front, did.

  The owner, Agsloth, was a small man, with thinning white hair and spectacles worn low on his nose. He showed neither surprise nor a welcoming tone as Topen stepped before him.

  “I thought I would not see you again in my shop . . . Topen,” scoffed Agsloth, peering over the rim of his glasses. “At least those were the last words you spoke to me, as I recall.”

  “You seem to remember our parting with some malice,” said Topen. “In my memory it was as amicable as it could be with a trader of the blackened stones.”

  “Yes, there is that air of self-righteousness that has been absent since you last required an item from me. It has not been missed,” snarled Agsloth. “I do not judge how others choose to use the items I have acquired.”

  Topen scanned the shop and picked up an artifact, an unassuming candleholder, near the counter.

  “Does this still illicit passion when a candle burns in its grip?”

  “So, it is difficulty with a woman that has brought you back.”

  Topen placed the candleholder on the counter and leaned in closer to Agsloth.

  “I am looking for a chamcryst,” he announced, “and before you tell me of the difficulty in acquiring such an object, I am prepared to pay you what you ask, no haggling. But my offer expires if you cannot deliver the crystal in the next five minutes.”

  The wide smile on Agsloth’s face gave Topen his answer, and the expectation that the payment would be costly.

  “The one thing I always did envy about you was your capacity to attract luck,” said Agsloth, as he retreated towards a doorway behind the counter. “It is fortunate I have procured an object that can duplicate that gift—with the right incentive.”

  Agsloth displayed a toothy, wry grin, and then vanished when he passed through the magical portal of the doorway.

  Another patron entered the shop and casually browsed among the many items that crowded the intimate space. The attractive young woman flipped her long red hair off her shoulders, inattentive to Topen’s presence—except for the covert glances she managed when she thought he didn’t notice her. When she got closer to Topen, she lifted a plaque from a shelf, but her attention was on him.

  “What qualities does this object have?” she asked.

  Topen turned to her, but before he could speak, the woman’s face emitted surprise.

  “I’m sorry, I thought you were the shopkeeper,” she said.

  “You’ve not been in this shop before?”

  “No, I noticed it from across the street. It seemed more authentic than the others on this lane.”

  “I see,” said Topen, and then he rotated back to the counter.

  The young woman ambled even closer to him.

&nb
sp; “Do you happen to know what magical properties this necklace holds?” She asked, as she slid along his side and raised a gold necklace—embellished with small copper ornaments—close to his face.

  Topen viewed the necklace, but did not touch it.

  “It appears to be an item of no natural magical properties.”

  “Oh well, I suppose it would be still make a beautiful gift for my husband,” she responded, unconcerned with Topen’s assessment. “Would you be willing to wear this for me? I can’t decide if it would please him.”

  Topen retrieved a stone from his pocket and placed it on the counter; his fingertip hovered over the smooth indentation in its center.

  “If I am correct, you already know what magical properties this stone wields.”

  The woman’s eyes bulged wide on recognition of the stone. She immediately dropped the necklace she held: it fell towards the counter. On her release, Topen instantly pressed his finger to the stone, and the necklace she had let go, glowed red-hot—it melted rapidly after it finished its fall to the counter.

  “Shall we find out if you hold any more of those trinkets, searcher?”

  Fear washed over the young woman’s face as she began to pull necklaces, and anything else of metal from whatever pocket she could reach. She frantically thrust them away from her.

  Agsloth returned through the magical portal with a velvet pouch in his hand. He noticed the blob of melted necklace on his counter and the scared young woman in a frenzied display on the other side.

  “Searcher?” he asked Topen, while amused at her gyrations.

  “A very inexperienced one I would say, with such a transparent attempt,” Topen replied.

  When the woman was satisfied she was safe from the power of the stone, she stood and shifted her eyes between Topen and Agsloth—unsure what to do next.

  “Are you alone?” Topen asked.

  “I saw an opportunity for your capture when I recognized you from across the street, but others know where I am. They will be here soon.”