Wayfarer (The Empyrean Chronicle)

by Siana, Patrick

  Bryn pulled her hand away. “Yes, I’ve suffered worse, and recently I might add. The question is why you are concerned at all, Phinneas, if this procedure is so safe?”

  Phinneas retreated from her, his features tight. “You have my sincerest apologies.” He sat down on a nearby stool and crossed his arms. “Under usual circumstances, were the hypnotic spell broken the patient would merely awake, as if from a dream, perhaps with some moderate disorientation. The moment you peered into the looking glass, however, I sensed a foreign magic. I’ve never had anything like this happen before. In truth, I don’t understand why it occurred, or even how.”

  “Shiny,” said Bryn.

  Danica leaned against the table Bryn sat on and exchanged glances with her mentor. “Perhaps you should start with explaining how this...discipline works, and what should have happened.”

  Phinneas glanced at Ogden who said, “Don’t look at me, this is your area of expertise.”

  “Right,” Phinneas said. “The basic idea is to create an environment and circumstances that allow us to guide your consciousness into deeper levels of awareness not associated with daily life, where lost or forgotten memories dwell, and also, as some arcanists have theorized, where the dreaming mind resides which contains insights and knowledge of which we are largely unaware.”

  “My father taught us an exercise he called entering the void, which he used to achieve a state of focus, a practice that always left me feeling as if I had sunk into some unused portion of myself,” said Danica. “Is that what you mean?”

  Phinneas tugged at his nose. “I can see where you would draw the comparison, but this is something quite a bit different, though the one often precedes the other. Entering the void, to use Padraic’s phrase, is an exercise to clear the mind and brush aside the clutter that distracts focus. What we are talking about now is going further yet, below that state of pristine focus, below our typical state of consciousness and into the subconscious mind.”

  “This is why you fed me the potion?” asked Bryn. “To push me into this sub-conscious mind?”

  “The tonic is designed to facilitate a state of mind where it is easier to descend into a hypnotic state, but it is the power of suggestion and an artful use of a little known of Arcanum that enables the descent into the deeper layers of consciousness.”

  “Be so kind as to indulge us, Doctor,” said Bryn, “and explain this secret art.”

  Phinneas waggled a hand in the air as if demonstrating the intangible nature of his work. “I essentially create a thought-form—a psychic projection, if you will. In this case I chose a landscape of my own design and used my magic to empower it, to make it feel real. Then I pushed the image into your mind and led you through it. Now, your psyche knows that this world is not the reality with which you are familiar, so it pushes the images into the subconscious mind where old memories and dreams are kept, where such things belong.”

  “And she takes the trip with this thought-form,” said Danica, “and so takes a short cut into the subconscious.”

  “That’s exactly right,” said Phinneas.

  “I’m glad you didn’t explain this to me before we did it,” said Bryn dryly.

  “I’ve seen Phinneas perform this form of hypnosis dozens, if not hundreds of times,” said Ogden, “and I’ve never see anything go awry.”

  “I believe you, both of you,” said Bryn. “The fact that the results were so unanticipated speaks only to how serious our present situation is. We don’t know what spell we may be up against, if it’s a spell at all and not some curse, or worse. Whatever it is, it’s affecting us in unusual ways. We can take nothing for granted in delving further into this mystery.” Bryn’s eyes grew glassy as she trailed off, and she gazed through the two elder arcanists. “Nothing feels right. Everything seems off somehow, unreal.”

  Phinneas, Ogden, and Danica all exchanged glances, but presently Bryn came out of her reverie and her features became animated again. She looked expectantly at Phinneas.

  Phinneas cleared his throat and went on as if nothing happened, unsettled as he realized that to Bryn nothing had. “The difficulty is in gaining the trust of the individual, so that their mind doesn’t reject the images as false.”

  “No worries there,” Bryn said. “Wherever it was that you took me felt as real as anything I’ve ever known.”

  “That is why it is important that I furnish you with detail. As you see what I describe it lends me credibility, as well as the new landscape you inhabit. The descent down the stairs and through the gate symbolizes to the mind your entrance into the subconscious layers of yourself. To this part of yourself symbols are significant and carry meaning.”

  “This is why dreams often contain strange images and events that make little sense,” Danica said. “The language of dreams is symbolism.”

  Phinneas blinked. “Yes, many arcanists and physicians believe just that.”

  Danica shrugged. “I took a few philosophy classes at the Academy.”

  “But what of the mirror?” asked Bryn, impatient to uncover the meaning of what she had seen within its depths.

  “The mirror is a symbolic window into the deep subconscious, where we hoped to see some memory or insight that might shine some light on our present predicament and the strange goings-on in your chamber.”

  “Yes, but what of what I saw in it? What of the colorless vortex?”

  “I don’t know why you saw the vortex in the mirror,” Phinneas said. “I have no frame of reference to compare it with. I don’t what it means. I’m going to have to think on it a while.”

  Something in his tone, his expression, clued Bryn that he held something back. “But you have some guesses?”

  “Not really, just surface conjecture.”

  “I won’t hold it against you if you’re wrong,” Bryn said. “Spit it out.”

  Phinneas sighed. “Very well. The vortex may indicate a disconnect with your memory, as if your subconscious is trying to protect you from some devastating past event or some unfortunate truth.”

  A chill passed through the room. Bryn ignored the weight of the others’ eyes upon her. “And why did your dream world begin to disappear?” she asked in a soft voice.

  “That too is unprecedented. For some reason you broke connection with your subconscious mind, but did not wake up. Usually if that happens the subject just wakes up.”

  “So, when it started falling apart you wanted me to get back to the beginning, to find an exit.”

  Phinneas met her eyes. “I was afraid of what might happen if my projection dissolved with you still inside it.”

  “That makes two of us,” said Bryn, for once no trace of her trademark glibness in her tone. She rose from the table and knuckled her back. “It’s well past supper. I think I’m going to retire for the evening. We’ll tackle this again in the morning.”

  “Bryn?” asked Phinneas as the princess made for the door.

  Bryn half-turned to face him. “Yes?”

  “You went silent for a few moments when you were looking in the mirror. It was like you drifted off momentarily.”

  “Yes.”

  Phinneas cleared his throat. “Did you see anything?”

  A guarded expression stole over her features. She turned back to the door. “No.”

  “I’ll be in shortly,” said Danica, who watched as her princess, and friend, swept from the room.

  Phinneas and Ogden exchanged a glance. The former arched an eyebrow at the latter. Danica knew their minds, for she too sensed that Bryn was keeping something from them, but she supposed she had her reasons. She herself had wrestled with her own secrets when she was under Slade’s influence last year, and Bryn had the decency to give her space. Like Bryn, however, she planned to intervene if she sensed those secrets had the potential to endanger them all. In any case, at present she had more pressing matters on her mind.

  Danica busied herself with putting her medical supplies back into her black physician’s satchel, to give h
erself time to organize her thoughts. She sensed that there was more to Phinneas’s story and the curious power he utilized with such apparent ease. The discipline of hypnosis he practiced may very well hold the key to unlocking many of the needling questions that haunted her mind and kept her up at nights.

  Foremost of these was the splintered memory of her experiences in the deep reaches of the Renwood. She had encountered her mother in her dreams, and again after Slade had driven her from her body. Her recollection of those experiences was hazy at best, and in the quick of the night she wondered if they were genuine or hallucinations imagined in the fit of delirium. Conversely, the night terrors induced by Slade were forever burnt into her memory. How did the fiend manage to infiltrate her dreams? The nightmares had been so detailed, indistinguishable from the waking world, and yet the dreams she normally experienced lacked cohesion and try as she might she recalled few concrete details.

  Yet Bryn’s present experience mirrored the night terrors she had suffered as well the visions she experienced during her fever in the Renwood, and like those visions, Bryn’s hypnotic state took her to another realm while she maintained conscious awareness. Might this discipline be a way to understand and remember what she saw in the space between wakefulness and sleep, between memory and dream? Might it be the bridge that connected the spirit world to the living, and if it could allow for communication across those vast distances, might it also allow her to reach out to her brother, to find him?

  Danica finished folding up Phinneas’s exam table. She turned to face the two arcanists, Archmagus and Diviner, to find them both watching her. She was at once wary under the weight of their gazes. “What? You two are looking at me like I just ate the last cookie.”

  “The two of us wanted to discuss some things with you,” Phinneas said, “and now seemed as good a time as any. However, by the look of you, you’ve something you want to talk about as well.”

  “Why don’t you sit down, dear,” Ogden said.

  “I’ve sat about long enough,” said Danica. “If it’s all the same to you I’ll stand, and I think I’ll go first.”

  “As you wish,” Ogden said.

  Danica resisted the urge to cross her arms, discovering that she didn’t know what to do with her hands. “You two know how Slade’s spirit came back for me, and you know the story of mine and Elias’s reunion in the Renwood. What you don’t know are the strange things, and the strange worlds I saw. What I don’t know are the holes in my memory, including the lessons my father taught Elias and I while we were in a state of induced hypnosis. What you did with Bryn just now, I think that’s the key. Phinneas, I want you to teach me this power.”

  Phinneas blinked and sat back in his chair. He exchanged glances with Ogden, who shrugged his arboreal eyebrows. “I wasn’t expecting that, to be honest. However, what Ogden and I wanted to talk with you about is similar in scope.” Phinneas paused to gather his words and Danica urged him on with a look of unfeigned interest. “We wanted to discuss your abilities and, even as Lar is to train with the Whiteshields, we wanted you to consider brushing up a bit as well.”

  Both Phinneas and Ogden had remained fixated on her arcane display when Bryn was under attack. Truth be told, she understood how she had been able to use such magic no better than they. She had acted out of instinct, channeling her magic through her sword in the same way she performed a healing with a laying of hands. While her method had been similar, the results were anything but.

  “It occurred to us,” said Ogden, “that we focused mostly on Elias with the traditional Arcanum, seeing that you favored other disciplines, such as healing and divination, like Phinneas. However, the events surrounding the coup, and the way you dealt with the aberration in Bryn’s chamber demonstrated that you have more of your father in you than we had expected. You show a keen and unique aptitude for the subtle arts. And like all good iron, you would benefit greatly from a little tempering.”

  “Fine with me, but my first priority is to find my brother.”

  “Agreed,” said Phinneas, “but the better form we’re all in, the better we’ll be able to help Elias and solve this new mystery. Besides that, the queen was right, you and Elias share a special bond, and you may be able to use your gift to help locate him.”

  “If you’ve the sand for it, then so do I,” Danica said, “but I want you to teach me your hypnosis.”

  Phinneas pulled at his nose. “The art of Hypnotic Projection is no easy thing. It requires dedication, and great care. It is no trivial power, and certainly not for the idle practitioner or the faint of heart.”

  Danica found herself standing to her full height. “I was once possessed by the spirit of the demonic son-of-a-crow that murdered my father. I think I can handle it.”

  Phinneas smiled despite himself and cast a quick glance to Ogden. “Very well. I will begin with recommending a few notable textbooks on the subject, which you can pick up at Arcalum and read in your down time. When you’ve mastered those books we can approach your additional training in the hypnotic arts as well. Deal?”

  Danica peered at her old mentor, and friend. He and Ogden were all she had left of her father, and she would be damned if they would remain all she had left of her brother. Elias had come to her rescue countless times in their life, some mortal and many more otherwise. Now, whatever his fate, it was her turn to return the favor. Elias needed her, and she had to grow in strength, in power, to help him, and it began with strengthening her command over the arcane arts. If there was a magic that could deliver Elias, by the One God’s Blood, she would find it.

  “Deal,” Danica said. “When do we start?”

  Chapter 13

  Lover’s Folly

  “Me?” asked Elias. “I’ve caused your domain to begin reappearing?”

  “Perhaps,” replied Teah. She sat down on the edge of her bed and looked past Elias, at the walls of her prison. “Honestly, I don’t know, but many of the other Enkilder believe it is so.”

  “Is there any evidence to support this?”

  “Not as such, although I imagine Mordum and his cohorts are seeking clues and portents as we speak. The fact is, Elias Duana, you don’t belong here. That much is abundantly clear. Your coming may have disturbed the natural order, caused some sort of ripple in the ether that may be responsible for our haven’s failing.”

  “Might it have something to do with Leosis’s passing and Mordum assuming the mantle of Speaker?”

  “It is something I have considered. Leosis’s power was strong, and his absence has affected our aggregate strength, but Mordum has not inherited any power from him, save access to our most sacred and protected texts. That I distrust Mordum is no secret between us, yet I can hardly think he would have anything to do with this. He would suffer as much as any of us if our domain were to phase back into synchronicity with the remainder of the lands.”

  Elias approached Teah and took a knee before her. He knew not what possessed him to do so, save for perhaps the gravity of their situation, or perhaps the memory of his oath when he was knighted. “If I am to blame for bringing trouble on you and yours, I will set it to right. I swear it.”

  Teah gazed into his eyes, her mood as impossible to read as ever. “Leosis sensed that you carried a great doom with you when you appeared in the ruins, but he also believed you alone had the power to save my people. You may well be either a blessing or a curse. Which, remains to be seen. Now, I have been frank with you. Return my faith—tell me how you came to be here.”

  Elias rose. “I will tell you everything, but I think we had best see to our escape at present. We’ve already squandered enough time.”

  Teah smiled. “Where will we go, and how will we get there?”

  “We’ll have to make our way to the far side of the townhouse by way of the ledge and then jump into the river. We can use our cloaks as floats and ride the current downriver. This will make it difficult for our captors to track us. We’ll take the candles and matches they’ve been kind e
nough to leave in our rooms. We’ll seal the matchboxes in hot wax before we leave. We can make a shelter, dry off. At first light we’ll find Nyla and come up with a plan.”

  “And what of these?” Teah rattled her desmene.

  “I know that they inhibit our magic, but we’ll have to trust in our wits until we can devise a method to remove them.”

  “As if surviving the wilds beyond our domain would be difficult enough without our magic. But, no, you do not as yet grasp the full scope of the power of the desmene. They block our ability to use the arcane, yes, but we can also be brought to heel by the one that wears a ring that is linked with the desmene.”

  Elias’s stomach dropped. “How?”

  “I’ve never used one before, but the desmene can generate an energetic field that can render the wearer immobile by administering a powerful shock. In extreme applications it can cause temporary paralysis and not insignificant pain. You saw this effect at work when you caught me unawares just now at the window. I missed a step not because of surprise, but because of the shock I suffered when I instinctively reached for my magic.”

  Elias felt his blood thunder through his veins. “I thought you were a nonviolent people.”

  Teah offered him a thin smile. “The devices were designed to be a nonviolent solution to controlling dangerous individuals. The state is not permanent, and no lasting damage is done to the prisoner’s body.”

  Elias thought of the torment his sister suffered at the hands of the rapacious Slade, and of the way it had felt when Sarad Mirengi had tried to infiltrate his mind to learn his secrets. “Intentionally inflicted pain is damaging, whether it leaves visible scars or not. Loss of freedom, of personal power, is damaging.”

  Teah arched an eyebrow. “Regardless of the philosophy, you can see our predicament. If we escape, we are helpless as babes as long as we wear these. Our enemies will use them to incapacitate us, then recapture us. It will go better for us if we find another way to earn our freedom.”