by Clark Bolton
“You are not suffering my fate,” Tang declared when he saw the despair on Ich-Mek’s face. “Let me show you something.”
Ich-Mek said nothing as his friends came to comfort him. They all watched as Tang began wantonly throwing his possessions aside to get to a kind of brick structure underneath. When it was cleared off he began removing slat bricks one by one until he was able to reach into the cavity they concealed.
When he walked back to Ich-Mek, he carried a long, wide, and flat board, which was wrapped in burlap. He stripped the wrapping away frantically, revealing a bizarre work of art. Pegs of wood had been pounded into the board, and these had lengths of twine running between them to form a kind of mangled spider web. Laying the board at Ich-Mek’s feet, Tang then sat down quietly and began staring at the thing in silence.
At first, Ich-Mek couldn’t think of what it might be. Whatever it was, Tang had clearly spent much time with it. When he concluded all the little posts were either red, gold, or silver he began to shake his head incredulously. He sank to his knees then knelt over the board so he could carefully count the thicker strands of twine.
“Seven!” Ich-Mek proclaimed as he looked to his friends. “Is this the second peg board?” he asked Tang, who nodded his head sadly.
“I never finished it,” Tang admitted. “Over fourteen years I worked on it…then I buried it there.” He pointed forlornly at the peg-board’s brick mound as he spoke.
Ich-Mek eventually gave up trying to make any sense out of the board. It was simply too complicated to do so at a glance. Clearly Tang had tried to represent every one of the hundreds of possible paths a student could be placed on at Key-Tar-Om. He thought there might be answers here for him, but was sure now they had come too late.
“I will continue to teach Bose,” Tang announced after a time.
Tang’s unexpected statement snapped Ich-Mek out of his reverie as he continued to stare at the peg-board. He knew Tang had been doing it at least informally, and could tell by Bose’s progress that it had been helping. Every other night for moons now, Ich-Mek had been casting the refresh spell upon himself so he could function with little sleep. Then he would sneak his two friends into his cell, and with the help of well-placed runes that dampened sound, they would study through the night.
“Rish also, if he desires,” Tang went on to say.
Ich-Mek looked to his two friends and then couldn’t help but smile as they nodded their enthusiasm. It was a pleasure to see that they also yearned for magecraft knowledge as much as he did. Nearly a year remained before graduation, which seemed a long time at the moment.
“Okay,” Ich-Mek replied with a shrug.
Rish then asked Tang, “Won’t you teach Ich also?”
Tang chuckled as he locked eyes with Ich-Mek. “Not much I can teach him,” he admitted.
Bose then asked a strange question of Rish. “Rish, you want to go on to Imin, don’t you?”
Rish nodded his head as he said, “We should all go on to our assigned posts someday, shouldn’t we?”
Ich-Mek could see that Bose wanted to say more, but something seemed to be holding him back. A glance at Tang told Ich-Mek that Bose wasn’t the only one concerned about Rish’s plans for the future. He made a mental note to question Bose about this subject later.
“Teaching comes at a price,” Tang then announced to Ich-Mek. “You must let me help you in any way possible to be the next chosen dragon-mage.”
Ich-Mek looked from face to face before shrugging helplessly. “Sure!”
What did he have to lose by such an arrangement, he asked himself. If Tang could help him, he may avoid being consumed by a dragon. After that he would be forever grateful and more than willing to repay Tang. Get him out of the cave, even, if that’s what he wanted.
Chapter 7
Practice for graduation started two moons before it was scheduled to occur. It was all-consuming for many students, but not for the dragon-boys. Ich-Mek’s instruction continued at an almost frantic pace, along with Lu-Bod, and the third dragon-boy, who was a student named Arn-Pie. It seemed an admission to Ich-Mek that the school needed the three of them to reach a level of competence beyond any of the instructors’.
His friends came by every other day to study with him, and nearly every time they encouraged him to go with them to the cave. Even pleas about Tang wanting to see him rarely got him to oblige. Usually he brushed it off, telling his friends he didn’t have the time or energy. When the last week of the cycle finally arrived the three dragon-boys were informed of their final course at Key-Tar-Om School; it was to be taught by Regent Ober-Toss.
By this point he and the others had been publicly recognized as the dragon-boys. Sometimes when he walked back to the dormitories, crowds of boys would spontaneously begin to sing one of the school’s many mantras in his honor. The first few times this happened he would stop and, with embarrassment, force himself to stand respectfully until they finished. Now he just walked quickly away, until he dared to run back to his cell to hide.
He had trained himself not to think of the final ceremony, so that no one would be disappointed in him. Whenever he failed to block such thoughts, he wept and promised his parents through prayer that he wouldn’t run away, or disgrace them in any other way. This allowed him to focus on his studies, but it also forced a wedge between him and his friends. Both friends learned not to bring up the subject of caves or of Tang.
The final course would be taught in the dragon-hall itself, he was told one morning. There he and the others would be secluded until the day of the ceremony. In a near panic, he tried to think of what to take with him to the hall. He had all his letters from home in his keep-chest, and considered taking them, but then decided there was no point to it. When the dragon came, they would be consumed along with him. That was something he found unacceptable, for some reason, for it seemed all that remained of his life before Key-Tar-Om.
The dragon-hall began with a vast open assembly area, covered by a reverse arched roof, then narrowed into the selection chamber. The two were separated by tiers of steps where the chosen ones would stand, awaiting the arrival of the palace-mages. Ich-Mek had looked upon this building countless times, as it was on the highest point of the school, and looked in opposition to the much higher Apa-Ton.
As he and the other two dragon-boys were led through the empty assembly area, Ich-Mek could see the steps running from the building down into the narrow valley that separated Key-Tar-Om School from the Mountain of the Mage. On the far side of the valley he could see where the stairs emerged and began the steep climb to Apa-Ton’s peak.
How do the mages make it down, he asked himself as he walked. Traditionally it was said that the palace-mages appeared magically on Apa-Ton, then made their way down to the dragon-hall. Then after a selection was made, assuming one was made, they returned up the steps, to then disappear into the dragon-cloud.
“Find a seat,” Master Juel told them as he gestured toward a table with three padded chairs.
A table opposite also had three chairs, and a separate, larger table also had three, but it contained one that appeared to Ich-Mek to be more like a throne. He could only guess the dragon-girls would sit at one, and the instructors at the other. It wasn’t long before the three dragon-girls arrived, and were positioned precisely where he suspected they would be.
He did his best to remain motionless, but allowed his eyes to gaze upon Yi-La. Before this moment, he hadn’t been sure she would be one of the dragon-girls. Now that it appeared she was, he found himself wishing it wasn’t so. He quickly pushed the thought out of his mind as he looked to the other two girls, wondering if they were the fiancées of the boys next to him.
When his gaze briefly met Yi-La’s, he felt like she had smiled at him, though her face had never changed. He tried to convey the same emotion of happiness he had seen in her, without the telltale signs of a smile. He was caught off guard when Regent Ober-Toss suddenly passed between their two tables.
&nbs
p; “Be seated!” Master Juel commanded after the Regent had seated himself upon the throne-like chair.
Another female instructor sat on the Regent’s left, while Master Juel took a seat to his right. Before more words were said, the massive stone sliding doors began to move into place, pushed by a team of eight Pus-Don. The doors separated the assembly area from the selection chamber, and as they grated into place the acoustics of the room changed, now more intimate.
No longer did voices echo, and so Regent Ober-Toss’s natural bass tone easily dominated the chamber. “We are honored to sit within the chamber of the dragon…” the Regent began.
It was at this moment that Ich-Mek realized where he was. Tang had described it in great detail, including the sliding stone doors. It was where Naun-Bu had met his end, presumably in the jaws of a dragon. He found he had to fight the temptation to look around for signs of past battles.
As the Regent went on to describe the pedigree of the school, and its august sponsor, being the Emperor of Ibu-Jek himself, the two instructors produced two boxes of scrolls. Each student was then carefully handed an ornately decorated scroll. It was lighter than he had expected it would be, Ich-Mek noted as he continued to watch the Regent respectfully.
When gestured to do so, Ich-Mek unrolled his scroll to discover that the paper itself was silk, and that it unrolled so easily it flowed into his lap. At the top of the scroll was written the words The Oath of the Owesek. It sent shivers up his spine when he read it.
“Read and memorize the Oath…” the Regent commanded. “Should you be chosen, you shall abide by it unto death!”
All six of the students kept their heads down, and were either reading now or doing their best to make it look like they were. For several moments Ich-Mek couldn’t get his thoughts in order well enough to read, as now Tang’s depiction of coming events was taking place to a tee.
Forcing himself to concentrate, he made his first reading of the sacred scroll. There was an introduction, followed by a statement of intent that contained dire consequences should the Oath be flaunted in any way. The Oath itself was long, and required the students to carefully unroll one end of the scroll while furrowing the other. The details of the Oath were lost on him as he continued to worry about his and Yi-La’s future.
As they read the Regent began to pontificate on the austere occasion to come, and how all the nine provinces of Ibu-Jek looked forward to the coming of new mages. Should an Emperor’s mage be chosen this cycle, he informed them, no expense would be spared for a second celebration. The family of the new Owesek-mage would be enriched beyond belief, and a coronation of sorts, by the Emperor himself, would be in order.
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The sequestration was the oddest part of the rehearsal so far, Ich-Mek decided as he walked about the chamber slowly. An alcove now contained three bedrolls for the dragon-boys, and when he first peered into it, he couldn’t help but wonder if it could possibly provide protection when the time came. It couldn’t, he concluded, for with its high ceiling even a very large creature could gain entry.
The dragon-girls had an escort of three immaculately dressed Pus-Don ladies, one of whom followed each of the girls as they too began to timidly explore the chamber. The inevitable happened, and so when boy met girl an escort was there to listen, and to interject themselves physically if need be.
Yi-La was only two steps away now, and like the practiced meetings they had been forced to endure when they both were eight, she kept her eyes down. She was waiting for him to speak, he realized, as memories of etiquette class came flooding back to him. They had occupied a good portion of their first year at Key-Tar-Om, after which nearly all contact between them had ceased.
“I am honored,” Ich-Mek proclaimed, though he truly didn’t know why he had just said that.
Her face relaxed, and then she smiled slightly as she replied, “You honor me.”
Ich-Mek swallowed hard as he nervously glanced around the chamber in hopes something was about to interrupt this now awkward encounter. He didn’t have a thing to say, at least not that he could say at the moment.
“We…are…here,” he managed to say with some effort, before chuckling nervously.
“Ha-ha, yes,” she replied with apparently equal nervousness.
Looking at her escort, he wondered if there was something he was possibly forgetting; something he should be saying or doing. He was almost disappointed when he concluded there wasn’t. Now he had to say something more, and it was then that memories of the etiquette class came to his rescue.
“It is a very good day to meet,” he said dryly. “I hope we can meet often.”
He was a moron, and a sweaty one at that, he told himself. He couldn’t help but cringe when she looked up at him, with eyes that took his breath away. It was then that he promised himself he would save the both of them.
“Yes, Ich-Mek. That is what I wish.”
He shook his head for a brief moment as he cursed himself for not first saying her name, as etiquette demanded. “Forgive me, Yi-La…” he then quickly said. “…I have been worrying.”
“Oh,” she said quietly as she lowered her eyes again. “About what?”
He stood frozen as thoughts of dragons and palace-mages ran through his mind. Then came Tang’s description of the screams, and his inability to let go of the windowsill from which he hung. Ich-Mek looked around at the highly placed windows, which he had already concluded were too small for the pair’s escape. He dared to wonder for a moment which one Tang had gazed through.
“More than I can say,” he replied with a nervous smile.
“But it will be fine, yes?” Yi-La assured him as she smiled and looked around.
He couldn’t bring himself to answer, and so just watched her face for a while.
On the following day they participated in a rehearsal. This involved standing quietly as the massive stone doors were slid aside to reveal an audience of hundreds. Every member of the six forms that had produced a dragon-student were present. Instructors led cheers as the six of them walked down the steps.
In their gowns of red, gold, and silver the six of them must look like members of the palace to the assembled students, Ich-Mek thought; they also seemed to be treated as such. Special tables stacked with exotic food and drink were arranged on the tiers that separated them from the lesser students. Most of the dishes he had never seen before.
“They are very excited,” Ich-Mek said to Yi-La as they sat on padded chairs and watched the instructors lead the others through practice drills.
Yi-La looked so caught up in the proceedings, so Ich-Mek wasn’t surprised she didn’t hear his comment. He was paired with her, as the other boys sat with their respective fiancées. There was a lot of singing, and many exits and entrances practiced, all while the six of them sat like royalty.
When the time came to practice their roles, they were lined up across the tier, with the boys on the left and the girls to the right. Between them an instructor sat in for the Regent, and even recited a short speech toward the empty selection chamber above them. The whole ordeal made him think that all was well; why else would such effort and expense be made?
But when he looked again at the fine carpets that littered the floor of the selection chamber, he reminded himself of what they hid. He had dared to look under them the day before, when no one was looking. The floor, he had noticed, was pitted slightly in places, and had barely perceptible troughs running in various directions. The carpets were clearly there to hide the worst of it.
He stared through the chamber at the opposing doors that had yet to be opened for them. No one seemed to know what lay behind them. They weren’t where the palace-mages would enter, he was told, for that would be the smaller side door that now lay to his right. He was going to take a closer look at these large doors, he told himself, just as soon as rehearsal ended. They were an exact match to the stone sliding doors; both had a gigantic version of the Emperor’s seal on them.
“You are the only dragon-boy who wanders far from his scroll!” came the booming voice of Regent Ober-Toss.
Ich-Mek quickly stepped back from the door, and turned to bow to the Regent, then stood rigid with his head and eyes down. His heart was racing now, as he was certain he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He began to feel great shame and disappointment in himself for being so suspicious and undisciplined.
“What questions do you ponder, Ich-Mek?” the Regent asked as he paced slowly about the chamber. “Was there something left unfound in the administrator’s book?”
“No, Lord Regent,” Ich-Mek replied meekly as blood rushed to his face for his earlier infraction.
“Do you think your parents not proud of your accomplishment?”
“No, Lord Regent.”
The Regent had come to the same doors now, and though he couldn’t see, Ich-Mek was almost sure the man was examining it as well. With eyes downcast, he could see only the Regent’s feet, which barely poked out of the glorious silk robes the man wore.
“Are you sleeping well, Ich-Mek?”
The question confused him for a moment. “I am, Lord Regent,” he stammered.
“You’ve memorized the Oath.”
“Yes, Lord Regent.”
“Recite it to me,” the Regent then commanded in an accusatory tone.
Ich-Mek swallowed hard, then closed his eyes before beginning to recite the Owesek Oath. It took him many minutes, but when he was done he was sure he had done so flawlessly.