Chronicles of Galadria III - Lessons

by David Gay-Perret

  “My friends, it is late, and we will have all the time in the world to talk in the week to come. Tomorrow, you can explain why you have come and how we can help you, but for now, I believe a good night’s rest is well-deserved.”

  The four got up and headed toward the main tower. There, Ralon and Koeris wished them a good night, then vanished through one of the doorways leading outside. Another monk led the master and his disciple to their rooms, which were in the upper part of the building, just opposite the panels from which they’d first entered the building so many hours earlier.

  Glaide was surprised to find they would each have their own room, and that he wouldn’t have to share one with his master. His master explained, though, that the temple had been built to house many more monks than those who served there at the time. That meant that there were many rooms left unused. Glaide and Kezthrem thanked their guide, who bowed his head to them before leaving. However, before the young man could push aside the panel leading to his room, his master held him back.

  “Do you see that opening, there, in the wall?” he asked. Glaide looked where he was pointing, and saw a balcony that appeared to open toward the mountain. He nodded.

  “Why don’t we go for a walk, and explore a little?” asked the man. Glaide followed his master, and the two headed out onto one of the many walkways leading out of the main building, where their rooms were, to other structures such as the guard towers, the main wall, and the pagoda. There were handrails, but Glaide didn’t dare approach or look over the side, feeling his vertigo as they walked. The walkway was wide enough, though, that the two could walk side by side without having to be too near to the edges. In front of them, there was a small, square building, built directly on the rocks.

  “In front of you, you can see the training room used by the few soldiers who live here,” announced Kezthrem. “You should take a look when you have the time. It will allow you to keep up your training.”

  “I will,” replied Glaide. “Master, why exactly are we here? Tomorrow, once Ralon knows that I’m the Destroyer, what are we planning on doing?”

  “We are here for two reasons, my young disciple. First of all, we are here for your education. I heard you talking to Koeris about Dzen and Novak, and I would like you to learn more about all of that. Ralon should be able to explain many potentially useful things to you, such as what happened after Dzen’s victory over Baras.”

  “You mean when the dwarves and the elves withdrew from the world?”

  “Not just that, Glaide. Not just that. And if you have the chance to ask others about things, don’t hesitate. All those living here know much more about what happened five hundred years ago than any other inhabitants of the Known Lands.”

  The young man nodded, then he and his master stood for a moment in silence. Nothing moved around them. It was perfectly silent. It was the young man who finally broke that silence to ask a question.

  “And what is the second reason that we’re here?”

  “That has to do with Dzen, or more specifically, his weapon, the famous katana.”

  “Yes, I remember it. The one he gave to Novak.”

  “Yes, after having used it against Baras,” Kezthrem finished. “The saber that had come from his master, who had left it to him after his own death.”

  “Dzen’s master?” the young man asked in astonishment. “But he was the first master of Iretane, wasn’t he?”

  “You’re forgetting someone,” Kezthrem replied with a smile.

  Suddenly, Glaide’s face brightened. “The stranger, the bringer of Iretane!”

  “Exactly. He is the one who left the katana to my ancestor.”

  “Does someone here know something about that mysterious individual?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” his master replied with a sigh. “Absolutely no one knows who he was, where he came from, or what motivated him.”

  “That’s too bad,” grumbled the adolescent. “But whatever the case, if Dzen, the Destroyer, used that weapon against Baras, then something should happen if I try to use it, right?”

  “I don’t really know,” murmured Kezthrem. “Whatever the case, though, it is kept here, in the pagoda you saw when we first came in, in the midst of the trees. I learned a number of years ago, from Ralon himself, that while Dzen did give his saber to his friend, Novak, he made him promise to leave it here, in this temple, which they then built for exactly that purpose. And Novak and all of his descendants kept his word.”

  “That’s amazing,” exclaimed Glaide. “We have a powerful weapon here in our grasp. But why hasn’t anyone used it since then?”

  “Because no one has understood its capabilities, or perhaps it is better to say no one has known more than part of what it can do. Ralon will explain more about that tomorrow. That being said, Dzen demanded that it remain here for good reason, and so no one has tried to do anything else. Today, however, with your arrival, times are changing. We will see what comes from that relic...”

  And so it was with a feeling of over-excitement that the young man finally went to bed. He found it difficult to contain his emotions; as he imagined himself wielding that famous katana, he could hardly keep still. Finally, he decided to take a bath to calm down. When that didn't work, it took another hour, a collision with a low hanging beam, and a great deal of pacing before fatigue finally conquered him. He slept at last with dreams of heroism dancing in his head.

  Chapter 9

  WHEN he opened his eyes, the brightness of day nearly blinded him. As happened every time he woke in a new place, it took him a few minutes to remember exactly where he was and what he was doing there. The words of his master quickly returned to his mind, and he jumped up with a bound, impatient to rejoin Koeris and Ralon. He put on the clothes he’d bought in Ojilon, since they seemed better suited to this place than his leather jacket and cape. Then, he slid aside the panel leading back into the main part of the tower. He stood for a moment, watching the monks moving about below. He felt like someone was watching him, so he spun around, only to find his master leaning nonchalantly against the wall behind him.

  “Before we rejoin our hosts,” he began, “There is something I want to explain to you, and to do that, we need to go to the training room that I showed you yesterday.”

  “But I just got up, and I wanted to get something to eat!” protested the young man.

  In response, Kezthrem tossed something at him, which he caught easily. It was an apple.

  “It’s practically noon,” replied the man. “That will keep you until the midday meal. Now let’s go.” With that, he headed for the walkway, his disciple on his heels and busy grumbling and complaining to himself.

  When the two stepped into the room, the cries and noise of combat abruptly ceased. Glaide noted that the room couldn’t have been simpler. It was a square room, as could be seen from the outside, and it had no decorations in particular. There were a number of grappling dummies suspended from the ceiling, weapons of wood and steel arranged on a weapons rack in the back, customized for the purpose, and other weapons scattered about in disorder. The floor of the room was covered in tatami, mats made of straw, to allow the fighters to fall without being injured. The silence lasted only a few seconds, before all of the individuals began to greet them cheerfully.

  “Kezthrem, welcome back!”

  They stopped their activity to shake his hand. Kezthrem smiled, and Glaide understood that he was truly pleased to see these men. Of course, they had already seen the master and his disciple at supper the evening before, but the fact that he had come directly to their training room filled them with joy. They greeted Glaide, too, with great slaps on the back, and by the end of it, Glaide was starting to wonder if they were going to knock his vertebrae out of place. After a few minutes of that, Kezthrem interrupted to say a few words.

  “My friends, it is with great joy that I find you all here. But I am here to teach my disciple, and for that, I would like to borrow some of your weapons, if I may.”


  “Use whatever you like,” exclaimed one of the men, and the rest of the group nodded in agreement.

  “If I remember right, you also had some weapons from the Ancient Times here, didn’t you?” continued the master of Iretane. “Do you still have those?”

  “Of course,” responded another. “They’re all in the weapons rack at the far back of the room.”

  “Perfect, thank you. We’ll remain here until noon, but don’t worry about us. Feel free to return to your training.” They each returned to their exercises, and the young man followed his master to the back. He knew that the weapons of Ancient Times didn’t look particularly different, except perhaps for the fact that they had no cavities for eorens. It was their rarity, instead, that made them legendary, and with that in mind, finding five or six together in the same place left the boy speechless.

  “Master,” murmured the young man, “it’s incredible that there are so many of these weapons collected here.”

  “The incredible part, my young disciple, is that no one is aware of it. So many things have been forgotten in the Known Lands, and here, we find the last humans with intact knowledge of the past.” Glaide nodded thoughtfully. “But we’re not here to talk about the past,” continued the man. “The katana of Dzen is nearby, but before you take it in hand, it is important that you know a bit more about combining magic and weapons, in the context of modern weapons and those of the Ancient Times. Also, you should know why the disciples of Iretane can use white magic, and be able to contemplate what you will need to learn once you find Emily again.”

  “Now, get a sword from the rack, from over there.” With that, he pointed to the hodgepodge of metal and wood that made up a large part of the armory of the temple. In a few seconds, the boy had found what he was looking for. Meanwhile, Kezthrem had carefully selected another sword from among the weapons from Ancient Times, which he held out in front of him. The adolescent returned to his master, giving all his attention to whatever was about to happen.

  “First of all, my young disciple,” he began, “there are three categories of weapons. The first are those forged today, by humans. Those are by far the weakest weapons. Then, we have those created by dwarves for the most part, as well as a few made by the elves, though those are much more rare. Then finally, we have the weapons of the protectors, that they have forged themselves.”

  “Or in my case,” replied Glaide, “the sword that Dzen forged, that he gave to Novak, who gave it to Rackk, who gave it to the guardian, who gave it to me...”

  “Exactly,” replied the man. “But first, let us focus on the weapons that are made today.” The young man held the sword that he had found out to his master, and the two leaned over the cavities dotting the guard and handle.

  “These spaces are meant to hold eorens,” declared the adolescent. “A weapons merchant that I met—the same one that thought that this temple forged weapons like the katana, even today—explained to me that you could insert eorens in these holes, and you would then be able to draw their magic and power through the blade.”

  “Exactly,” agreed Kezthrem. “From a technical viewpoint, however, you need to know exactly how that works. Look closer.” Peering inside the holes, Glaide noticed that the entire inside of the cavity glimmered with golden glints. “What you see there are a collection of runes and formulas whose only purpose is to allow the eoren to fuse with the weapon.”

  “Hmm...” murmured the young man. “So that’s how they use magic with this type of weapon. Are there pieces of armor or other objects that can be fused with eorens in the same way?”

  “They exist,” replied Kezthrem, “but are extremely rare. The function of the eorens must be reversed in that case. An eoren of fire, for example, would be used not to burn, but to protect from burns. It is extremely complicated to create those types of formulas, and in the end, protecting against such elements isn’t very useful. No magic has been found, aside from that of maggs, capable of deflecting a blow of the sword, so the use and fabrication of magical armor remains limited.”

  Glaide nodded. Up until that point, his master had only reminded him of things he already knew, detailing the main selling point of modern weapons: their ability to make use of the magic of eorens. However, a new conclusion came suddenly to his mind.

  “Master, we can’t actually use magic directly in this type of weapon at all, then. It only works because of the inscriptions, the runes and formulas, right?”

  “Right,” agreed Kezthrem with a smile. “They require that, because they were forged by humans. That brings us, then to the second category of weapons, the ones forged during the Ancient Times, during the time of Dzen and Novak.” With that, he put down the weapon he was holding, and took up the one he had chosen earlier.

  “At first glance, this sword doesn’t look any different from the other, except for the lack of cavities. But if you look at it closely, you will see that the guard is decorated more delicately, and the blade is much sharper. In short, it is better made than the one we just looked at.”

  The young man looked it over, and quickly saw what his master was talking about. On the hilt, too, he could see carefully molded forms, understated but of excellent quality, while the guard was covered with delicate swirls passing close together, so fine that they couldn’t be seen from a distance.

  “As you well know,” continued the man, “the principal strength of these weapons lies in their ability to fuse with magic without using any intermediary outside of a mage.”

  “That’s true. I learned that it’s possible for a mage to direct the flux into the blade, so that it then takes on the characteristics of that magic.”

  “Yes. There is no need to discuss all of the advantages that can provide,” continued the man. “However, I would like to point out one thing. Even with these weapons, it is possible to use eorens.”

  Glaide’s eyes grew wide at that. “Really?”

  “The main difference lies in how the two objects are fused. With the materials used in the Ancient Times, all of the runes and inscriptions are unnecessary. It is enough to merely bring an eoren near the blade for it to melt into it and give it its power. Of course, that only has a limited amount of usefulness, but on certain occasions, when no mage is around, a warrior can save himself by making use of that. Of course, the use of eorens back in Ancient Times was nothing like their use today.”

  “But then...” began the young man with a murmur, “if Dzen’s katana is a weapon from Ancient Times, that means it, too, can take in magic like that, right?” Kezthrem nodded, and his smile grew a bit as his disciple continued, “So it would be possible to use eorens, and to fuse them directly with the blade, and that would also apply to the eoren of light! Which means that the katana is able to use white magic in two different ways: through the magg herself, and again via eorens. Plus, I could use fire, ice...”

  “Woah, now slow down, there,” Kezthrem interrupted. “First of all, you should know that eorens other than the eoren of light can’t be used with the katana or your sword. Spheres of white magic, on the other hand, can’t be used in either modern weapons or those of the Ancient Times. They are entirely different types of magic by nature, and these cavities and blades cannot manipulate white magic. White magic, whether in the form of an eoren or directly from a magg can only be used in the blade of a protector of Iretane, or in the katana of my ancestor.”

  “But why?” exclaimed the boy.

  “As far as the saber is concerned, I don’t really know. It is a very mysterious object, and I think only Ralon has enough knowledge to teach you about it. As for our swords, however, it is very simple. They can take in the flux of white magic, because their size permits it. The long, wide blade is no coincidence. While it makes these weapons difficult to wield, heavy and cumbersome, it also allows them to hold considerable power.”

  Glaide became lost in his thoughts for a moment, as he imagined what would have happened had the guardian given him a different weapon. Finally, he spoke again.<
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  “The disciples of Iretane are the only ones who can use that power that Tyv showed me, the Blade of Light...”

  “...And that magic can come from an eoren or from a magg,” continued the man. “Though of course, using both at the same time is impossible. Our swords still have a limited capacity, which is often reached with the Blade of Light.” With that, he carefully replaced his sword in the rack, and motioned to his disciple to do the same. Then, as noon was approaching, the two said their farewells to the soldiers, and returned to the main tower. Once there, they headed down to the lower floor. With Glaide still following, they went down the stairs until they were at the door to the dining hall. Just as they were about go in, they heard someone hailing them.

  “Kezthrem, Glaide, there you are!” The two turned to see Ralon, just entering the tower. “Where have you been? When I sent for you, they told me your rooms were empty!”

  “I had a few things I wanted to explain to my disciple,” replied Kezthrem. “And on that subject, I am pleased to see how well you are caring for the ancient weaponry you have here.”

  “If only one day they would prove themselves useful,” the man replied with a sigh.

  “You don’t use them?” Glaide asked in astonishment.

  “The only mages who live here have consecrated their lives to study, and not to battle. Besides that, they are too few and precious to be sent out into ordinary battles. But that’s not important. Let’s eat, my friends! Then, you can explain to me why you’ve come. I’ve invited Koeris to join us for our conversation. His knowledge of the history of the Known Lands is impressive, and with his many travels, he has become a man of knowledge without equal.”

  Kezthrem nodded, then the trio went into the dining hall. Just like the evening before, the room filled gradually. This time, however, there was no toast to make, and by the time Koeris came in, everyone was already eating heartily. The monk waved to his companions and his mentor, then sat with them at their table. He excused himself for being late, adding that he had just gotten up. The journey had exhausted him, and he had slept the sleep of the dead.