Even from the antechamber, she could feel the dark oppression of the Cavern of Sighs seeping through the portal, so Cerah moved quickly to the opening of the Chamber of Whispers. As she did she sensed a slight warming. This further encouraged her, and she stepped through to the interior.
At first there was no sound. She listened for the hushed chorus that signified that the spirits of the elders were welcoming her, but it did not come. The uncertainty that had been plaguing her intensified, but she endeavored not to panic. Moving further into the cavern she found a smooth area on the floor and sat. She drew in a long, deep breath and slowly let it escape her nostrils, taking with it as much of her uneasiness and apprehension as she could banish. With her mind clearer, she listened again.
Gradually she became aware of the faintest of whispers, so soft and distant that it could have been a breeze or a trickle of water. Heartened, she repeated the breathing exercise several times. With each breath, her spirit became less cluttered, and the voices of the elders grew more audible.
“Welcome back, Cerah. You are well. We are with you. Cast out your doubt. It hinders us,” said many voices at once.
With a final inhalation, she forced herself to ignore the last of her niggling misgivings. Instantly she heard a clear voice, one that she recognized and for which she was most grateful.
“Cerah of Quadar, you’ve returned to seek your elders,” said the spirit of Opatta.
“Yes,” she said. “I come with questions.”
“We will do our best to answer them all. But first, tell me of Parnasus. Does he thrive?”
“The First Elder is working through hard times, as are we all,” she answered. “But his spark never wavers.”
“I have no fears for his spark. I worry that his body may give out before his race is won, however,” Opatta replied.
Cerah knew better than to try to deceive the spirits. “I have worried about him as well,” she said. “When he traveled to the Frozen South, being in that horrid place took a definite toll upon him. But he rallied once we left. In the months since and indeed when last I was with him he seemed to have recovered much of his vitality.”
“But not all.”
“No. Not all.”
“Alas. Still I am sure you look after him as best you can. You have far more to worry about than one old man, however.”
“An old man who is a vital cog in our struggle and my most trusted counselor. Yes, I endeavor to keep an eye, at least, upon him whenever possible.”
“Good. I ask no more of you than that. Now to your questions. Do you wish to ask me, or do you seek another?”
Cerah took another deep breath, but this time it was to give her strength. “I have questions for you, Elder. But first, if possible, I would speak to Therrien.”
At once another voice answered her. “I am here, daughter.”
“Well met, Great Papa,” she said, using the familiar term for any family member that is more than a few generations removed.”
Therrien’s tone warmed at hearing it. “Well met indeed. Your spirit is laden with uncertainty. Ask me.”
“I was recently pulled by Pilka herself from the Green Lands to the Under Plane. In fact, I encountered her directly soon after regaining awareness and realizing that’s where I was. Thanks to Ma’uzzi’s courage coming upon me, I got the better of the meeting,” she began.
“Ah. There is our explanation,” he said, seeming to address other spirits. “Your spark was hidden from us for a time. It caused us all great concern. Now I see why. One is completely cut off from the Light when in that realm. I have likewise sullied my feet with the dust of that horrid place, although my descent was voluntary.”
“Yes, I was told. I met a spirit there named Therra. She claimed to be your youngest child.”
For an uncomfortably long time there was no answer. Finally, Therrien said, “She was my daughter.”
“She said that she bore great guilt all her short life, because she believed you held her responsible for the death of your wife.”
This time Therrien did not hesitate. “I never harbored such a thought. Ever. She was a bright and shining reminder of her mother. She was most precious to me.”
“Then why did she feel like she did? And why, when Opatta first told me your story, did he say that you remained with your family long enough to know your great-grandchildren?”
“I fear her siblings may have planted those feelings in her. I remember more than once they made her feel responsible. Although I quickly corrected them, and did my best to make her feel as important and loved as any of my children, I could sense a sadness within her that I could never banish entirely. And when I left them to return to Melsa, I did so with great shame. It is true that as time went on my feelings of loss increased, rather than diminish. And it’s true that looking into my children’s eyes and seeing traces of Andrella’s spark was a factor in my despair. So, I lied to my brethren when I returned to them, telling them that I had stayed with my family for many generations. Of course, those who were my contemporaries saw through my fabrication. They knew that although I had indeed been absent for an extended time, I had not been in Kamara, or even away from Melsa, long enough for this to be so. But they also felt my overwhelming sorrow, and did not confront me about my dishonesty. My last years were spent in seclusion, and when my tale was told to the wizards who came after my death, it was the story as I had told it, not as it had actually happened. The report Opatta gave to you is that tale as he knew it.
“As for Therra, her guilt only grew after I left, as I was no longer there to continually assuage her burden. She came to believe that she was the reason her brothers and sisters had now lost both of their parents. And so, though she did not learn the craft and become swayed by the pull of dark magic, she did succumb to darkness itself. When she could no longer bear her self-perceived blameworthiness, she took her own life. It was not that act, but her embracing lightlessness that sent her spirit to the Under Plane. She had rejected Ma’uzzi’s love, because she believed she’d never had mine.”
“Is she why you went to the Under Plane?”
“It was to seek her, yes.”
“Yet she was right in front of you when you stepped through the glimmering into that place.”
“She was? But I searched for her for days! I am afraid I did not recognize what she had become in the limitless darkness. When I arrived in the Under Plane the first spirit I saw was of a broken old hag. Could that have been her?”
Cerah found herself thinking, I thought I was here to ask questions, not answer them. But she could sense that Therrien’s confusion and sorrow was genuine. “Perhaps her soul appeared to you as it felt to her. She appeared to me as a very sad little girl, at first,” she said finally.
“At first?” the wizard asked.
“Yes. The whole time she walked with me and told me her story she maintained that form and that emotional state. It was only when she’d shown me to the shimmering gateway that her countenance altered.”
“How so?”
“As I was being transported to Between, I saw her standing next to Pilka, and they were both looking at me with the same evil smile.”
Opatta’s voice came to her. “That is because you did not meet Therrien’s daughter. You met Pilka again. After you bested her face to face, she took the form, or at least the name, of poor Therra. I am sure of it. She is cunning, Cerah.”
“I first felt something was wrong when Therra…I mean Pilka… called me ‘sister/daughter.’”
Now Therrien’s voice returned. “That is how she is called in the histories.”
“Exactly,” said Opatta. “It was her intention to send you Between all the while. The sad story she told was to prevent you from recognizing her at once and exposing her to any more of Ma’uzzi’s strength. Cerah, the Under Plane is a realm fraught with not only sadness but with danger for any living souls who find their way into that place. Parnasus warned you when you were only slightly exposed in the C
avern of Sighs that you must keep your spark girded at all times.”
Cerah felt slightly chastised. “I knew this, and yet I allowed myself to be fooled.”
Opatta’s voice was very conciliatory as he said, “Do not castigate yourself for this having been the case. As I said, her nature is not only evil, it is insidiously so. She now knows that you will not fall prey to her full-on assault, so she will seek other snares with which to trip you. More than ever before you must be on guard always. You do not know from whence her next attack will come.”
“Still,” said Therrien, “with each encounter that you’ve survived you’ve grown in both strength and understanding. She will have to constantly alter her tactics for you have always learned from your mistakes as well as your victories.”
“And,” came Opatta’s voice once more, “you have never taken your eye off of her chief weapon.”
“Surok,” answered Cerah. “That is the other matter for which I sought your counsel.”
“What can we tell you of the beast that you have not already learned for yourself?” asked Opatta.
“I had a direct concurrence with him as well.”
“You have faced your enemy?” asked Therrien.
“I have.”
“Please tell us of the encounter,” said Opatta.
“Well, after a little verbal banter, he essentially tried to murder me.”
“Always to the point,” Parnasus’s teacher replied, with a trace of mirth. “Could you elaborate?”
“Of course. He began with the lightning attack I have seen him use in visions, and which he used, not to assail but to unground and turn about the black ships when he called his forces to retreat at Thresh.”
“You avoided them, obviously,” said Therrien.
“I did, by the slimmest of fractions of an inch. Knowing his propensity for cold environs, I countered with a burning spell, which hurt him. He used ice magic upon himself to quench the flames, then started using a power blast spell. The energy assumed the shape of a blue fist. Rather showy, I thought, and easier to evade than the lighting.”
Cerah heard Opatta chuckle. “I’m sure Surok would be off put by your criticism of his dark craft,” he said. “Please go on.”
“I used a rend spell next, and caused a long gash on his body. It was at that point that he opened another shimmering and kicked me into it. When my vision returned, I found myself in the prison section of his abandoned lair on Mount Opatta.”
“Mount Opatta!” exclaimed the wizard, interrupting her. “You named that forsaken place after me?”
“I did, in recognition of the sacrifice you made to bind him until we were ready to destroy him.”
“A most gracious gesture. I would have had you name almost anything else for me instead, but I recognize your intention and I thank you for the dubious honor!” he said.
“But more importantly,” interjected Therrien, “you now know in certainty that you can hurt the demon, and he knows it too. It was an act of desperation, sending you from Between back to this plane, especially after his mother had pulled you from it. If there was any doubt in his mind that you were the Chosen One, that is gone now.”
“Which is both boon and bane,” said Opatta. “Any fear which you can cast into his heart is a blow well struck. For as formidable as he is magically and physically, his twisted mind is his greatest weapon, and thereby the biggest challenge to you. He has enjoyed the successes he’s had to this point by keeping you off balance, keeping you guessing. If a shaft of fear is mingled with his perverse mentations, so much the better for the Light!”
“I have two more questions, then I will leave you in peace,” Cerah said.
“Child, do not think that by seeking us you disturb us. We delight in your presence!” said Therrien. His discomfort about revealing the truth and his sorrow at thinking about Therra seemed to have passed.
“I agree with my elder,” said Opatta. “You are much cherished by us, for you are not only the long-awaited Promise, but you are a kind, beautiful soul.”
Cerah blushed, and wondered if the spirits could see her doing so. “Thank you. First, I am wondering if my mother is among you.”
“She is not currently. We know that she was called by Ma’uzzi while your spark was hidden from us. We assume he had a task for her.”
“She met me while I was Between. She told me about my husband’s parentage and that he had a brother, whom it was my duty to send to meet him.”
“I see. I can answer your unasked question then; why is she not here now. For a spirit of pure Light to descend to the area Between, a great effort is required, and doing so leaves its mark upon the wanderer. You mother is safely in Ma’uzzi’s arms, her spirit being cleansed and restored. Her great love for you led her to do something most in the Next Plane would not do, for to leave the presence of the Creator for even the briefest interval is traumatic. When our spirits meet you here, we are not in fact leaving the Next Plane to do so. Think of the Hall of Whispers as a special annex to our eternal reward. Remember, Ma’uzzi created wizard-kind to serve, and that service does not end simply because our lives do. But I trust that He is keeping your mother very near to him until she is recovered.”
“Good. Then to my final question. To shield knowledge of my actions from Surok, I sought Ma’uzzi, and He took from me my anger and hatred, which were both a beacon and, I suspect, a meal for the demon. However, with them went the depth of all my emotions. I could not feel happiness or fear or even love. Though I knew that I loved Slurr, there was no passion for him. I likened it to a long, flat line, with no dimension.
“When I returned from the other planes, however, so too did my emotions. Tressida realized it before I did, when I expressed anger at the Stygians for joining forces with the demon. That was the first time I’d really had any feeling other than wanting to be off the Frozen South.”
“All most interesting,” said Opatta. “But you haven’t asked your question.”
“Why, if Ma’uzzi took my emotions away to give me an advantage over Surok, would he return them when that asset is needed more than ever?”
“Dear Cerah,” said Therrien. “Did Ma’uzzi take your emotions? Or did you relinquish them?”
This thought had never occurred to her. It seemed a fine point, but perhaps this was not Ma’uzzi’s action at all. Was it solely hers? When she’d been in communication with the Creator, He had merely told her to banish her hatred. She had done that, not He.
“I think it is far more likely that your ordeal on the other planes reawakened the feelings that had been put down alongside your anger and acrimony,” the ancient wizard explained.
“Allow me to ask you a question, Cerah,” said Opatta. “Search your soul right now. Do you feel hatred, even toward the Stygians? Or, more importantly, toward Surok?”
Cerah looked within herself and realized that she did not. “No, I don’t. I was angry when I’d heard the news of the Stygian’s alliance with the Dark, but that passed quickly.”
“I do not think you ever lost your ability to feel these things. I believe you gained the ability to control those feelings. Perhaps in your desire to do as Ma’uzzi was instructing you, you put down all your emotions, subconsciously believing that feeling anything might show Surok your hand. But I trust what has actually happened is that you have overcome your emotions, not lost… then regained... them.”
“But this is wonderful news!” Cerah shouted, jumping to her feet. “I can both feel all the love I have for my husband, and keep Surok blind to my movements and intentions.”
“Yes,” answered Opatta simply.
“Then I must hurry to him,” she said. “And to the Army of the Light. It is time to bring our war to Surok, rather than allow him to do as he wishes any longer.”
“A warning,” Therrien said. “This is a great advantage and I do not wish to understate its value. But Surok is no less crafty than before, and as we said he now fears you more than ever. His decisions grow ever m
ore erratic and difficult to anticipate. Your struggle is not yet at an end, I fear.”
Cerah’s elation abated somewhat. “You are right, Great Papa,” she said.
“It gives my heart much pleasure when you call me that,” Therrien said. “I am proud to be your ancestor.”
“And I am proud to be your descendant. Now I must thank you both, and take my leave.”
“Go with our blessing, Cerah of Quadar,” said Opatta. “And tell my protégé to eat a bowl of hot soup. It will do his body good.”
Cerah laughed. “I promise I will. Farewell.”
As she turned to leave she heard many more voices join those of the wizards who had counseled her, offering her warm wishes and benedictions.
A short time later she scampered to the landing where Tressida waited for her. “You heard everything, I assume?” she asked the dragon.
“I did,” Tressida replied. “Now hurry onto my back. Illyria is a long way off, and I am eager to see Slurr once more. You might feel the same, yes?”
“A million yeses,” Cerah said as she mounted her match-mate. “I feel you are much recovered, both from my healing and from visiting your birthplace, so I will not chide you if you fly hard to Trakkas.”
“Just watch me,” she said, and with a mighty beating of her wings she soared west, to Illyria, to the fray, and to love of her beloved Cerah’s life.
12
Sneak Attack
When Yarren and Ban returned to Trakkas, Slurr stood with Kern and Parnasus, eager to greet them.
A Single Candle Page 18