“It’s simple,” replied Koeris. “It contains a piece of parchment. A parchment which holds the instructions and formulas for the use of a forgotten magic, older than Novak himself. A magic that could bring us a significant advantage. Naturally, before we can use it, we’ll have to decode the writing, and that will take time, but if our hypothesis is confirmed...”
“What kind of magic?” Glaide demanded, captivated by his words.
“The magic of invocation,” the man said reverently.
The declaration was met with profound silence.
“Invocation,” Kezthrem contemplatively repeated at last. “I thought that that was nothing more than legend.”
“Perhaps that is still the case,” replied the monk. “There is no way to know until we’ve studied the parchment. But even though we do not know the magnitude of what is contained inside, we cannot let this fall into the hands of the enemy.”
Everyone in the group nodded.
“Invocation... Is that a way to call a creature in order to control it?” asked Glaide.
“That’s exactly it,” agreed Koeris.
“But what kind of creature? A monster like an ork, that you can possess, so that it obeys you? Or a creature from another world with incredible powers?”
“Unfortunately, I cannot say, because I do not know. There are almost no writings at all that discuss invocation, and we have long believed it to be a myth. No one today can say exactly who or what it would be possible to call.”
“I see,” murmured Glaide, a bit disappointed.
The disciple and his master repeated their wish to escort Koeris, and this time, the unarmed protector spoke. The adolescent had already noticed the man with his calm and detached air, though as his face was sometimes hidden behind his long, black hair, he couldn’t tell if that was his usual demeanor. The voice the man used was serious and low.
“I think we can leave the monk in their hands. This man is the master of Iretane, so there is no risk.” Glaide felt pride rise up in him at that statement, although he wondered to himself whether the man had intentionally neglected him by only mentioning Kezthrem... The only female fighter of the group brushed her hand over her hair, pushing two escaping locks of blond hair back into her bun, then nodded her agreement with her companion.
“The temple is no more than a day’s walk from here, and we’re already drawing close to the mountains and the forest. The orks are becoming ever more rare.”
“Yes, and besides,” announced Koeris, “I’ve already told you that I don’t want to inconvenience anyone. I’m incredibly thankful for the aid you’ve offered me thus far, but I think that it is more than time for us to part ways, and for you to continue on to wherever you intend to go. I have full confidence in our two friends. Nothing is going to happen to me—or to the box, for that matter—at this point.”
The five companions took a few minutes to deliberate amongst themselves, and Glaide observed them carefully all the while. He envied them this sense of community: traveling in the company of your friends, encountering new people together, and deciding what you wanted to do as a group, rather than alone.
He realized then just how much he missed Emily, Jeremy, and Gwenn; he missed their unique personalities, their reactions to everything in this world, their laughter, even their doubts. He wanted to hear them call out his name, and to say their names himself, and watch them turn toward him in recognition. But the path toward their reunion would be a long one, he well knew. He would still have to roam the immensities of this place alone, confront enemies alone, search, err, and more...
He sighed and turned toward Kezthrem, who was still talking with the monk. How lucky he was to have encountered this man! He could never thank him enough for everything that he had given him: strength, wisdom, a home... When he had set out to find the master of Iretane, he had hoped to find someone like this, but thinking back on it now, he realized that this man had surpassed all that he could have hoped for. As long as he was there, Glaide would never feel alone, so he put aside his thoughts of the future. The present was what mattered. Only the present, at least for now.
By this time, and at long last, the magg and her protectors had finished discussing the matter. They had decided they would leave the monk the next day, trusting him to Kezthrem and his disciple for the last day of traveling. After hearing the decision, the two older men returned to their own discussion, and the five young people settled in, quickly becoming lost in their own thoughts. Glaide, seeing his chance to start a conversation with them, spoke to his companions cheerfully, caring little if he broke their meditation.
“So, you said that you all decided to become protectors, but why exactly did you choose to accept such a heavy charge?”
“Honestly, I never really had a choice,” replied Thane with a smile. “Just after we turned twelve, Selma and I were out gathering fruit for the village. I can recall it just like it was yesterday. On the path, we came across some people who were running, like they were fleeing from something. We started to follow them, until we realized they weren’t from our village. We turned back, but by then, we were lost.”
“Mmhm,” the young woman broke in. “We wandered about for awhile, and then we came across an ork. Thinking back on it now, I’m sure he was part of a bigger group, probably the group that had terrorized those villagers. But whatever the case, we could do nothing but flee, and that was exactly what we did, until we found ourselves with our back to the wall, so to speak, in some ruins. It was then that Thane found a sword, much like the one he carries today, in the midst of the debris.”
“And you did white magic for the first time,” added her companion with a smile. “If I remember right, you created a blue shield that allowed me to pick up the weapon and kill our adversary.”
Selma nodded. “That event carried the mark of Destiny,” she concluded. “Shortly thereafter, I officially took on the name of a magg, and Thane that of a protector. A few weeks later, he finished forging a sword that looked much like the other, which had broken during the fight due to age. The blade he forged then is the blade he carries to this day.”
Their story made Glaide recall what the guardian had said to Jeremy and him—that an event, the workings of Destiny, would bring a magg and her protector together. Though that was a complicated idea, it was beginning to make more sense to him now.
“For me,” began Linar, “it had to do with friendship. Selma and Thane are my best friends. It was simply inconceivable that they would leave without me!” At that, the three broke into laughter. Then, Glaide turned to the other two protectors.
“And for you two?” he asked.
“I grew up with my family in an isolated home in the middle of the Known Lands,” began the girl with a more serious tone of voice. “There, knowing how to defend ourselves was as important as having food and water. That’s why I know how to use these daggers. I was lucky to come across these three,” she said, pointing to her more cheerful companions, “because they brought us eorens of water, which we desperately needed. It is thanks to them that I am here, and it was to repay that debt that I decided to take on the title of protector, rather than act as a simple bodyguard. I owe them that.”
“I see,” murmured Glaide. Truthfully, he found the discussion astonishing. He had assumed the five companions were together simply because they were friends, but it seemed that for at least one of them, it was duty that obliged them to remain.
“In my case,” declared the last warrior calmly, “it was because I saw almost my entire village destroyed by an army of those monsters.” Glaide’s eyes widened at that, and he was stupefied. He immediately regretted his curiosity. He thought to excuse himself, but the man continued in a voice both grave and monotone.
“At the time, I was very young, and was forced to flee. It is only thanks to the providential arrival of a contingent of soldiers from a nearby village that any of us survived. Unfortunately, my parents weren’t among the survivors.”
�
��I’m so sorry,” Glaide choked out, not daring to meet the young man’s eyes. The young man smiled sadly, staring off into the flames. After a few minutes, he finished his story.
“I’m telling you this because I spent some years in the company of a master, much like you have. After the massacre, he welcomed me into his home and taught me. He was an excellent master, but blinded as I was by sadness and a desire for vengeance, I didn’t reach the level of skill he offered. One day, I decided to leave. I needed time to think. There were too many things jumbling around in my head, and preventing me from seeing the world around me clearly.
“He had taught me how to fight, but if I am a protector today, it is so that I can try to become wiser, and to forget the grudges I’ve held so long. Perhaps in that way, I’ll be able to build a future for myself. If I think one day that I’ve succeeded, and if I have enough courage to face him, perhaps I’ll return to see my master. And I hope that that day comes quickly, because many years of his life have already passed by...”
Selma put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It is near, of that I’m sure.”
“The ties holding these five people together are varied ones, that’s for sure,” Glaide thought to himself.
Would he, too, find himself bound to others because of tragic pasts such as these? Or would the warriors who accompanied him follow him more out of formality? Could he build a community based on friendship, and not on vengeance or duty? He could only hope...
Chapter 6
THAT night, the young man slept restlessly. For the first time since he’d arrived in Galadria, his dreams were haunted by images of his friends and family back on Earth. He saw them smiling to see him, and asking where he’d been all of this time, then suddenly their surroundings caught fire, and they began to scream out his name, imploring him to come back, to save them... Glaide woke with a start, out of breath, his face covered in sweat. He could feel the dampness of tears on his cheeks; he’d cried in his sleep.
“Those tragic stories certainly did me no good,” he thought to himself as he tried to get his emotions back in check. He felt shaken by all of this; his nightmare had sent a past he thought he’d buried surging back to the forefront of his mind. It seemed that, just as Kezthrem had said, a lifetime would not be enough to make him wholly a citizen of Galadria. He got up and paced around for a few minutes, glancing about at his companions, all asleep, as he walked. The sight calmed him eventually, and he finally felt he could sit and reflect again.
“If something were to happen to a member of my family, I would have no way of knowing it,” he thought to himself sadly. “What has become of them? What have they been doing these last six months?” A feeling of melancholy, tinged with pain, surged up around him, and he held his head in his hands, and tried to force himself to think of nothing. He couldn’t dwell on his past and everything that could have taken place in that world. For the first time, he felt like an orphan.
The young man remained like that for the rest of the night, his mind occupied with his dark thoughts. Several times, he wondered to himself how Gwenn, Jeremy, and Emily had managed to accept what had happened to them so quickly, and more than once, he found himself in awe of their courage, which, he admitted to himself, far surpassed his own.
The new day slowly came to life, and his dark thoughts were pushed away by the light, just as the shadows surrounding him were. The more the sunlight filtered in through the trees and lit up their campsite, the more heartened he felt. He watched as his companions opened their eyes, one after another, yawned, then straightened up, their faces still marked by sleepiness.
“A new day, a new adventure, and no time for the past,” Glaide thought to himself, “though that past will always remain with me, and I know now that it is useless to try to bury it. It will be difficult, but I will simply have to live with it...”
After a bountiful breakfast, the five combatants and the mag took to the road heading west. The adolescent, though he refused to admit it, felt relieved. Their presence had begun to grate on him now that he was aware of the reasons that had pushed each of them to take on the charge of being a protector. It took a few more minutes for the rest of them to put out the fire and pack away all of their supplies, but finally the remaining members of the group were ready to continue on their way. Soon, they reached the top of the plateau that they had been climbing up the evening before. To the right, Oclin-Fer stood as imposing and massive as always. Glaide recognized the mountains instantly, and they brought the events of those many months ago back to mind. They did not cover the entire horizon, however. Toward the south, they became lower and lower, eventually disappearing from view entirely, perhaps near where the forest began, though he could not yet make out any trees.
“We’re almost there,” Koeris announced joyfully. “This evening, we’ll dine at a proper table, and sleep in real beds!” He continued on his way with a deep, happy sigh, followed by the master of Iretane and his disciple. The hours passed, one after another, each blending into the last, undisturbed by any notable events. Finally, Glaide could make out the green of the forest in the distance. Even from so far away, he could see how massive the place was. He could see the expanse of green disappearing toward the south, seemingly without end. This, then, was the southeastern border of the Known Lands.
The group advanced with renewed strength, and after a few hours, and just as evening began its approach, they were finally able to lay their eyes on the famous temple. Nestled exactly between the feet of the mountains and the outskirts of the forest, part of the temple was built into the side of a cliff, while the other half disappeared into the blanket of the forest. Staircases and bridges connected towers and various buildings in the complex, and he could make out small terraces on different levels. The highest part of the installation, situated on the side of the mountain, rose up into a simple, pointed tower, with a base that looked much like a European castle. The roof of a traditional oriental pagoda rose up out of the trees on the other side. “Those who constructed this place were geniuses,” Glaide thought to himself. “Despite these vast differences in style, the structure somehow makes a magnificent and harmonious whole.”
The entrance to the compound stood directly before them, and was made up of a wall of white stone, much like that surrounding Shinozuka, with two large columns forming the end of the wall and framing the massive gateway, which was made up of the same white stone.
At this time of day, the gate was still open, and behind it, Glaide could make out a wide stairway made up of only a few stairs. Further up, it divided into three branches, one heading to the left, toward the mountains and a tower, one toward the right to another tower lost in the trees, and the middle branch heading straight ahead, toward a western-style building that had been built into a small hill. From its size, the young man assumed that the latter was the main part of the complex.
He was just speeding up when, suddenly, Kezthrem threw himself to the ground, taking Koeris with him. Glaide, with his usual lightning-fast reaction time, only froze in place, as he slowly realized that his companions were under fire from an archer. Finally comprehending what that meant, he turned his head to look for their attacker. The archer didn’t leave Glaide any time to look around; already, he could hear the whistling of another arrow. With a bound, Kezthrem jumped up, and Koeris followed, crying out, “Quickly, to the temple!”
The group took off at a run. Glaide glanced over his shoulder and could see that their assailants had prepared an ambush for them; as absorbed as they were in the view before them, and certain of their imminent security, the members of the group had not even noticed they were passing through a narrow path, surrounded on either side by thick woods. The orks had taken up positions there, and it didn’t seem they were even going to bother attacking with the sword; they were certain the archers would be enough.
The two men were several steps ahead of Glaide, and the adolescent could hear arrows whistling through the air, then planting themselves in the ground
all around him. At any moment, he expected to feel the pain of one perforating his flesh, as one of the arrows found its target. He hated bows and crossbows; how could he fight against such an attack? What could he do with just a sword? Even Kezthrem was helpless.
It seemed, though, that his final hour had not yet come. They were drawing close to the temple, and from his position, Glaide could make out the soldiers swarming about the towers and onto the parapets. Soon, the monsters sustained a cloud of arrows that decimated their own ranks. Clouds of arrows passed over the heads of the fleeing trio, and each wave filled the young man with amazement. They passed overhead constantly, deafening him, then falling amidst cries of pain and anger. For a moment, the young man felt like he was in the middle of a film. However, there were no cameras, and as that thought struck him, so did the realization that if these waves continued, it would not be a fake arrow that would strike him!
The battle ceased as suddenly as it had begun. In the face of the unrelenting defense opposing them, the disciples of Baras took to flight. The trio didn’t stop their crazy pace, however, until they’d passed through the gate and it had been closed behind them.
And so it came to pass that by the end of their flight, mankind had in their possession a powerful piece of knowledge, ancient and forgotten—that of invocation—and at the same time, Glaide and Kezthrem finally reached their destination—the last temple honoring Aras—in the beginning of February.
Chapter 7
THE three travelers were welcomed in front of the entrance to the main building by the head monk. He was a man who seemed to almost bob along in his habit. Glaide estimated that he had to be at least fifty years old. His round face wore a huge smile.
“Koeris!” the man exclaimed. “It’s so good to see you again!”
The aforementioned man moved forward to greet his superior respectfully, and although he wasn’t terribly tall, he had to be at least a head taller than their host, and had much wider shoulders.
Chronicles of Galadria III - Lessons Page 5