“So it’s true,” Gideon said shaking his head in disbelief. “You are throwing your life away for nothing Darius. The God won’t let Athione fall to the sorcerers.”
“I know you truly believe that my friend, but you and I both know that the God helps those who help themselves. I have never been one for praying or begging for help. Certainly not when I can do something to aid the situation my self. I am not going to start now.”
“You can’t unmake the barrier! No one can do that!” Gideon said with frustration heavy in his voice.
“True.” Darius’ ready agreement seemed to put Gideon off his stride, and he quickly followed up the advantage. “But I can make a tiny hole and slip through.”
“You are deluding yourself. The stories are just that—stories.”
“You’re wrong, my friend. I’ve read the histories as you have, but where you see charming stories, I see logical and well written accounts of the sorcerer’s journey and first years here.”
Gideon sighed. “I cannot sway you. I will pray for your success. Perhaps the Holy Father would chastise me for saying this, but I am proud to be called your friend.”
Darius could say nothing around the lump in his throat. He embraced the priest fiercely, and Gideon responded in kind. He stepped back to receive Gideon’s blessing then bowed formerly and left his friend standing alone.
Darius walked quickly to the great hall where Keverin waited for him to begin. When he entered, he found his brothers in a group talking amongst themselves to one side of the great hall. Keverin was sitting tensely in his high backed chair as if in judgement. Darius knew his friend was worried for him. He could not tell Keverin that his concern was justified—he dare not for fear that Keverin would forbid him from casting the spell. In an effort to forestall any such order from Keverin, Darius moved to speak with his brothers. Three wore the blue robes of master mages; two wore the yellow denoting journeymen, and on the outskirts of the group was Mathius, who was the youngest at twenty, wearing the green robes of an initiate. The Hasian mages all wore the black robes of true sorcerers, but they did so only to hide their ranks from outsiders. There was a very real advantage in such a practise, but not when living together as Darius did with his brothers of the craft. One mage could easily gauge the strength of another. Darius knew that if, when, he was successful, the hierarchy within Athione would shift and a new leader would arise to take his place within candlemarks of his death. His brothers wouldn’t fight the newcomer. The strongest always led by tradition. The thought of bringing someone to save his brothers and his other friends pleased Darius. It was worth dying for.
“Renard,” Darius said as his brothers moved to encircle him. “When it’s done, you will lead until the newcomer, whoever he is, has learned all he needs to know. I want you to tell him about the Hasians and Castle Black straight away.”
Renard looked unhappy about the situation, but he nodded. “I understand.”
“Good.” Darius turned to the other master mages. “Eamonn, Helton, as soon as the gate closes I want you to keep a watch on the sorcerers. I don’t know what they’ll do when they realise what I have done, but best you are prepared.”
Both mages bowed in assent without speaking.
“Haliden, Wregan,” Darius said acknowledging the yellow robed journeymen. “I want you two to keep your eyes on the lord. He... he will be troubled by what I have done.”
Wregan nodded but Haliden spoke up. “Are you sure this is necessary?”
“You have seen the enemy. What do you think?”
“I think anyone can be killed—even so many sorcerers. We could strike the centre of their camp in the night. Or at least ward the wall.”
Darius nodded. Warding the wall would work for a time as he had explained to Keverin, but it wasn’t a complete solution. “I expect you’ll have to raise wards at some point. Defence is important but we can’t win without a good offence as well.”
Haliden looked sceptical, but he would learn in time. He was only a young man yet. Give him another ten years and he would be as paranoid as Keverin and he felt. Darius turned to Mathius. He had no task for an initiate, but the young man needed something to feel needed.
“I need my complete concentration for the task at hand, Mathius. Father Gideon will arrive shortly and he has already tried to talk me out of casting the spell. I want you to keep a watch on him and prevent him from interfering.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Mathius said with a small smile.
Darius chuckled. The boy wasn’t so easily fooled. Ah well, time was wasting. He was about to address Keverin when he saw Gideon slip quietly into the room. The priest smiled sadly at him then made his way to a quiet corner to watch and pray.
“My Lord, I am ready to open the gate,” Darius said in a loud and clear voice. There was no sign of the excitement he felt—or the fear.
Keverin opened his mouth as if to forbid him, but he hesitated on the words. Finally, the lord nodded his permission. “You have my leave Wizard.”
“I thank you my lord,” Darius said with a deep and very respectful bow.
Turning to his fellows, he inclined his head to each of his brothers again. The mages bowed deeply in return and then retired to the sides of the hall so as not to interfere with the summoning.
Taking a deep breath, Darius centred and raised a ward to contain the forces about to be unleashed. A faintly glowing cylindrical wall came into existence, which slowly increased in size with Darius at its centre. He constructed the ward as strong as he could, but did not make it self sustaining. It needed to be strong but also temporary. He fashioned it ten yards tall to seal against the floor and ceiling. Where it touched there were little bursts of blue light accompanied by crackling noises as particles of dust flamed and were gone. A faint thrumming noise accompanied the growth of the ward. Darius fed more magic into its matrix and the thrumming grew louder. The magical wall brightened and dimmed in time with the odd sound throwing shadows across the floor and over the tapestry covered walls.
Thrum—thruuum, Thrum—thruuum, the shield pulsed like a heartbeat.
This indeed was his strongest ward. Darius revelled in the sweetness of the magic flowing through him. Forcing himself to remember his task, he reached for more power, and yet more until he felt he would burst apart. He called upon his mage-sight and lost sight of the ward as he concentrated all his thoughts on what he had to do. Using the magic in a way not used for over a thousand years, Darius reached and revealed the barrier. His mage-sight showed the wall the God had made to separate the worlds. What impudence he had even contemplating what the God had ordained to exist, what incredible arrogance to think he might breach it. The audacity of what he planned to do came crashing in upon him and despair threatened to take him. Forcing his thoughts onto what he was here to do, Darius shaped his will into a sharp point backed by all the magic he could draw and thrust it at the wall.
Shock!
Darius’ probe was smashed contemptuously aside and his head rang. He waited for the pain to diminish, and then forced himself to the very edge of agony. He thrust again and was smashed away again. He wanted to scream in frustration and no little pain. It was as if the barrier was made of fire. It hurt to touch as fire did, insubstantial yet still a solid barrier to his will. He had known it would come to this, yet he hesitated. A roaring filled him as if the largest waterfall in the world was trapped within his head. It was the magic raging at its confinement within him.
Darius flung open his link to the magic before his fear overcame him. No longer was there any restraint on its flow. He was swept along completely at its mercy. He struggled against the current as it threatened to drown him in a river of magic. He had but one thought remaining. Hasians... Keverin, Keverin... Hasians. He grasped the thought and slowly, agonisingly, he dragged himself from the river until his world returned to the barrier and pain so excruciating it felt like a river of fire running through his veins. He thrust his probe at the barrier again, but th
is time he felt a tiny breach. Forcing himself to push until all that was left of him was his driving will...
The wall surrendered and Darius was through.
The pain lessened as his body lost its ability to feel. He was dying but Darius did not care about that. He found himself floating in nothingness and silence. All around him there were millions of pearl-like spheres—worlds rich in colour and life. They stretched forever into the vast unknowable distance. They were so beautiful. Darius spun about, giddy with childish delight and awe. Worlds uncountable. If only he could go back and tell Keverin not to grieve. It was so wonderful here. Thoughts of Keverin caused him to rush headlong through the nothingness until he was hovering over one of the pearls. He reached out to touch it and was suddenly looking upon Athione’s great hall. Keverin was beating his fists bloody on the ward. Renard and the others were trying to restrain him, but Keverin was a big man. He was a handful.
He mustn’t do that.
Darius quickly used the magic to search nearby worlds for the one he came for.
There!
It was unmistakably the spark of a great one, a true sorcerer. What had been Darius quickly threw out his will to snag the spark and then hurl it at Keverin in one motion. The vision faded, and Darius began to fade with it.
It’s so beautiful here…
Welcome home Darius. Come, come meet thy God.
I’m coming…
* * *
Julia Morton danced across the mat in precise moves designed to train her body to remember. She was wearing her ballet shoes and leotard, but the dance she was performing wasn’t for a ballet. It was a routine based on ballet for the women’s floor exercise in gymnastics.
“You’re too tense!” Jill called over the music. “The movements should flow one to another, not lurch like some kind of zombie!”
The sweating dancer held her position with one leg extended behind her. Hearing the criticism she faltered, then wavering, she tried to regain her poise but it was no good. She had lost her concentration. Julia lowered her leg to the mat and tried to force the pain from her cramping muscles. Six months left to prepare before joining the rest of her team. She wasn’t ready and knew it. The games, no longer a far off and eagerly anticipated event, loomed ahead of her like a rain cloud on the horizon—an ominous and inevitable climax to her life thus far.
What will I do after? Is there an after?
Julia was pushing herself to exhaustion each day, but something seemed missing from her work. She was just going through the motions and not improving. Worry and anxiety over the floor exercise had long since replaced the excitement and anticipation she used to feel when thinking about the games. The ballet was Jill’s attempt to instill some grace into her movements, but the task seemed impossible. She was at home on the asymmetric bars or balance beam, even her vault was good, but the floor exercise was a nightmare of cramping muscles and shaky legs as she strained for, but never attained, the perfection she so desperately needed. Improvement in her other events came easily by comparison, but the floor routine left her gasping with nothing to show for the effort she expended. She was spending all her time making her body perform unnatural, painful, and intricate movements all in the hopes of forcing an improvement.
I spent too much time on weights!
It was a familiar thought. She had wasted six years of training before she learned that strength, though necessary, wasn’t the only thing a gymnast needed. When first starting out she had spent, and wasted she now felt, too much time strengthening her body. Jill disagreed saying no training was entirely wasted, but Julia blamed her strength for her inability to attain her goal. She was far too heavily muscled to perform intricate movements accurately.
“Give me a minute and I’ll go again,” Julia gasped.
“No,” her coach said.
“But I need more practise! You said yourself I look like a zombie lurching around the mat.”
“I said no, Julia,” Jill said testily. “You’re pushing too hard as it is. The way you’re kneading that thigh tells me it’s time to quit for the day.” Jill knelt and started vigorously massaging the cramping thigh muscles.
“But Jill, I need this. You know why I need this!” Julia said looking down at her coach working on her legs. “You’re always telling me about the Three D Method: Determination, Discipline, and Dynamics. Well, I’m determined to get this right.”
Jill replied without looking up. “You have more than enough determination and discipline. What you lack is common sense. If you continue to push it, you’ll lose everything through one type of injury or another.” She stopped the massage. “There. How’s it feel now?”
Julia flexed her legs ignoring the twinges as the muscles bunched. “It’s great. Better than great—it’s perfect. I can go another hour—honest!”
If I can just smooth out the transitions, I’ll be halfway there.
“—listening to me?” Jill was saying.
“What? I’m sorry I didn’t catch what you said.”
“Exactly! You’re not listening to me. Keep on as you are and you’ll be out with an injury.” Jill moved toward the door. “I’m going home for the night.”
“Oh come on! Just watch me for another twenty minutes,” Julia said as Jill opened the door to leave. “All right ten minutes!”
“I’ve said all I’m going to say on this. Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow, and don’t forget to lock up,” Jill said over her shoulder and then left.
Damn!
Julia pulled a towel out of her bag lying against the wall. Jill was right about her common sense, but it didn’t change how she felt. Gymnastics was her entire life now. Without it she had nothing. Robby had someone else and wouldn’t even talk to her. Mum and Dad...
Don’t think about it!
Julia tried not to, but it was no good. Even as a child she had enjoyed sports. She had wanted to be bigger and stronger than everyone else, and her mother encouraged her. She joined the local gym and worked out every evening. On weekends she worked non-stop. Julia never did grow very tall, but she made up for her five foot frame with muscle and attitude. She had lost friends because of her preoccupation with gymnastics, but that didn’t seem to matter. The only people that did were her parents and Robby. It wasn’t bloody mindedness on her part when she dropped out of college to work in the gym full time. Gymnastics was important—it was! It was more important to her now than it had ever been in her life. Robby just hadn’t understood her. He was studious, Robby was. Some would say boring, but never to his face. Julia really did love him, or she thought she did... or had, but she loved her gymnastics more. He couldn’t accept second place in her heart, and he knew he would never be first, so they had split up. Robby had someone else already, and she had what she wanted—her gymnastics. So what if the house was empty? So what if she was lonely? She could handle it. She didn’t have time for relationships any longer. She didn’t need anybody but Jill.
She didn’t need anything—really.
Julia knew that some people found her strange or too out spoken, but if they couldn’t handle that, it was their loss. Even her father hadn’t understood why she wanted to be a gymnast. He used to say that she was becoming too mannish, and didn’t look like a girl her age should look. Her mother had understood what drove her though... Julia sniffed and buried her face in the towel. The tears came as they always did when she remembered her parents. They had both wanted the best for her. Her mother had pushed her in the direction she already wanted to go, but her father was more down to Earth. His vision of her success was a high paid job and marriage. Now that her parents were gone, she had only Jill to help her. The death of her parents was a strong reason to push her self. If she didn’t do it, who would?
Drying her eyes, Julia looked around the gym at the familiar sights of beam and bars. She needed the distraction. Her eyes swept back to the beam. No. She didn’t feel like working on the beam. The asymmetric bars were her favourite of all her disciplines. She always felt
as if she were flying when she was up there. Time seemed to slow giving her plenty of time for the next catch or twist. She was at her best while flying.
Just ten minutes won’t hurt.
Julia rummaged in her bag for her palm protectors. It was awkward to put them on without help, but she managed to do it finally, before walking over to the chalk. With an irritated sigh, she realised she was still wearing her ballet shoes. She untied and removed them, and then thoroughly chalked her hands before walking over to her start position.
Taking a deep breath, she sprinted and launched herself perfectly from the springboard. Time slowed as she flew easily over the lower bar to catch the higher. She moved into a handstand, held it for three seconds, and then allowed herself to fall into a full giant. Swinging around for the second time, she performed a back-straddle release to catch the lower bar.
Julia lost herself in the movement.
Time sped by as pirouettes and hand changes blurred into giants and saltos. She held her position in a handstand on the higher bar, and then allowed herself to fall into two giants. At the perfect moment, she released to perform a double-back salto dismount. She sailed through the air twisting and turning, but then something went wrong. She lurched sideways and lost the correct posture.
Oh shit, this is going to hurt!
Julia’s dismount turned into a crashing sprawling fall.
* * *
3 ~ New World
Keverin watched the faintly glowing wall as it grew. It was tall enough to reach the ceiling, and a strange noise hummed in time with a faint increase in glow. This was truly magic, the kind ordinary people could see. The ward hesitated as it encountered a slight step in the ceiling. The brightness increased as if the ward were snagged, pressure built until it cleared the obstruction. The magical wall dimmed and stopped growing after forming a circular wall about twenty yards across with Darius at its centre.
Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 Page 2