Eagerly, he looked around, but with the crystal gone, he saw only darkness. His body hovered in the emptiness, unable to go anywhere. Sadness immediately overwhelmed him, for his one companion, that wonderful crystal, was now gone. Here he would spend the rest of his life in solitude.
But what of that someone holding his hand before? He struggled to reclaim his memories, fighting against the loneliness that was swallowing him. He reached within himself and recalled the tune that shattered the crystal, bringing its notes to mind and pointedly adding another verse.
I still have my heart. And I will be strong. I know I will find my way.
I have played my part. It will not be long. I will find the light of day.
For I am a man who loves another. I will not take a gibe.
As we have come to respect each other, we reveal the Forgotten Tribe.
He held on to the words, not quite knowing if they were true, but admiring them all the same. They instilled him with a pure hope and they resonated with his heart in a way he hadn’t thought possible. He breathed deeply, bringing the feeling through his mind, and as he exhaled, the darkness before him parted.
At first, the room was a blob of odd colors, but soon they resolved into known shapes. His memories also flooded back, as did the words of his impromptu song, and he smiled to himself, remembering Dariak and cherishing him in his heart. As two men, their relationship was frowned upon by some others. As citizens of opposing countries, they would further be shunned. Yet, he knew that they were a good and solid fit, a strong union of two different worlds. Indeed, they represented the message he had been hunting all his life. In their own way, they were the Forgotten Tribe, the union of Hathreneir and Kallisor, unbound by land, united by love.
The truth of it filled him with such joy, he laughed aloud, unable to contain himself. He sat up and swung his feet to the ground, not recognizing the chamber, but not caring either. He could practically feel Dariak’s presence nearby, a hall or two away. Rising up, he stepped lightly toward the door, throwing it open, and seeking out the mage not far beyond.
Finding Dariak, he threw himself against the man, burying his head into the man’s shoulder as he squeezed him tightly, after which he kissed him with such passion, Dariak was lost for words. They held each other a while, enjoying each other’s presence, delighted that, for once, everything could feel so perfectly right.
Chapter 17
Dariak in Magehaven
As the companions stepped through the invisible wall surrounding Magehaven, Dariak felt a searing heat from his hands, after which a brilliant light flashed and he found himself alone. When he turned around, the small army was still beyond the wall of force, setting up defenses against feral creatures, but his companions were gone. He smashed his fist into his hand in annoyance.
“Trials,” he hissed. “I should have known.” He wasted no time running toward the entrance of the tower and throwing open its massive doors. “Stop!” he called aloud. “They are with me!”
Three acolytes were in the foyer and they stared at Dariak, aghast at his arrogance. Two of them stalked forward, hands swinging upward to summon defensive energies, but Dariak ignored the magic, shoving them physically aside and stamping his feet as he approached other mages beyond them.
“To whom must I speak?” Dariak shouted over the din within the room.
Practice spells fizzled and fell away as the casters were distracted by the authoritative call. Two older mages stepped forward slowly, their bodies shimmering with all the protective magics that enwrapped them. They were necessary precautions in a practice room, but their presence irritated Dariak all the more.
“Who so addresses this chamber with anger?” called one of the men.
“It is Dariak, son of Delminor. I have returned at last. Yet my companions were taken from me and I would have them released before they are bound to the Trials.”
The two mages looked at each other with concern, and then ushered him to follow. “There is little time, then,” one muttered.
They hurried up a flight of stairs and the older of the two mages waved his hand before a wall panel, which then melted away, revealing a hallway behind it. He stepped through without hesitation and Dariak followed as the other mage took up the rear. The walls were carved of wood and though there were no light sources, the air itself glowed with a faint glimmer that made it easy to see. Dariak’s nose wrinkled in annoyance and he realized they must have been using the glow sacs of lightflies for the luminance.
The corridor ran the length of the oversized chamber that was on the other side of the wall, then the hallway started to branch off in various directions, including down and up. The leading mage turned sharply right and ascended six stairs, then stopped to wait.
Dariak stood beside him, with the other mage close behind. As one, they turned and stepped forward, but rather than traverse the steps back downward, their feet landed on an invisible set of air steps that guided them upward to another landing. It was a secret passage that would make their ascent much quicker than going the normal route. Dariak was glad he was with these masters who could access the secrets, for he knew his own spells would not work any longer. To avoid unwanted infiltration, these quick-routes were bound to passwords and spells that were changed by the Mage Council periodically. Only those within the upper echelon were permitted to even learn them.
Though it didn’t take long to wind up eight flights of the tower, Dariak couldn’t help feeling that they weren’t moving fast enough. Still, they had accepted his claim without hesitation, as was his right, and his demands were being promptly met. There was little he could actually complain about.
Once they reached the upper quadrant of the tower, the mages introduced their guest to an elder in the room, after which they left Dariak and returned to the practice chamber below where their talents were needed for training.
Dariak turned his gaze around the room, noting that a number of the elite mages had changed since his time there. They kept to tradition, wearing long flowing robes of various colors, each one signifying the mage’s preferred element. In his time here previously, Dariak wore a deep brown robe lined with crimson florets that decorated the sleeves and hem. Many mages debated the wisdom of wearing their colors so openly, for it would alert others to their strengths and suggest their weaknesses, but proponents insisted that if they had earned the right to wear them at all, then anyone would be hard-pressed to take them down, even with that information. It was a difficult argument to win without admitting a personal weakness among one’s own defenses.
The eldest of the group was also an earth mage, with water droplets sewn along the robe in a gentle swirling pattern. He stepped forward and clasped Dariak’s hand warmly. “It is good you return, young Dariak.”
“Thank you, Pyron. It feels as if it has been ages.” He lowered his gaze in homage. “Before we reconnect, however, I must ask a boon. My three companions were taken by the barrier. I assume the Trials are in effect? I would have them protected from such a thing. They are here with my support and guidance.”
The wrinkled face turned downward. “I am sorry, friend. They were unrecognized by the perimeter and set within the Trials with utmost haste.”
“No one spoke to them first?” Dariak asked in shock. “They were just inserted immediately?”
“The Council has seen fit to make some alterations to deny those who would unwittingly intrude upon our grounds,” he explained, then leaned in so that only Dariak could hear. “Once you left, Farrenok joined the Council.” It was explanation enough for Dariak, remembering the spritely youth whose paranoia woke him at all hours, spewing spells at random. He had learned to control the errant energies, but the fear had never left.
“Can’t we interrupt their Trials early?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
Sad gray eyes confirmed Dariak’s intuition even before he spoke, “No, Dariak, I am afraid not. They must endure the tasks set upon them. But take heart, for other changes
have also come about in your absence.” He turned away and motioned for Dariak to follow.
The other mages waved greetings to him or eyed him cautiously, in the event he turn out to be some sort of imposter. None were permitted to speak yet, though, as Pyron had not welcomed their attention to the visitor. It was an old custom that had occasionally brought them trouble, but as the leader of the Mage Council, the old man had the right to speak first and uninterrupted. There were, of course, ways for the other mages to indicate interest in the conversation, but it was still the elder’s decision to permit their words or not. As of now, no one had anything pressing to add.
Dariak took an empty seat at the table where some of the others were gathered. They continued their muted conversations, albeit half-heartedly in the presence of Dariak. “You say there are other changes?”
“Yes, indeed. You know already that the Trials are initiated by a single element, be it fire or water, or some such. However, we have been making use of a different element altogether. It is one we had not thought of using for such a purpose, but in many ways it has proven to be more effective than others.” He was delighting in the revelation he was about to unleash upon Dariak, and he built up suspense by waiting.
There was nothing Dariak could yet do for his friends if they were being subjected to the Trials. They would each have to endure them in their own right and succeed. But the joy in Pyron’s eyes awakened Dariak’s curiosity. He considered for a moment and then realization struck. “You tapped into the healing shard!”
“Indeed!” the old man clapped his hands. “I knew you would understand. Always astute, like your father. Yes, we managed to unlock many of the secrets of the healing magic and then Olissa beseeched the Council to link its power to the Trials. It was a curious enough thought that we voted and agreed.”
“You say it has been effective?”
“Delightfully so. A number of ill-minded travelers have attempted to breach our walls, but once they have been cleansed of their pains and ailments, their goals shift, sometimes slightly, other times drastically. Regardless, each one has understood that taking our power is both impossible and foolish. Several have remained on to study our ways, while others have gone abroad to teach the populace of what good we can bring to them.”
Dariak didn’t know whether to laugh at the description or be concerned. “Are you altering their minds?”
“No, no, fixing their wounds,” Pyron assured him. “But it is a healing of the inner hurts that they face within the Trials. It is not the mending of cuts or breaks they face, but the broken parts of their souls. After all, what is a thief other than a man damaged by circumstance seeking to better himself by taking from others? Show him the error of his way and he no longer seeks the same target. He finds he can rebuild himself and live anew.”
Dariak let the words sink in, wondering what ailments the healing Trial would find within him. He had hurt others along the way, and not just the men and women he had killed in Kallisor along the journey. There were childhood hurts and pains. “But don’t we grow into who we are by how we deal with the things that go awry?”
Pyron’s brow furrowed. “I did not expect you to question this method, Dariak. These people do not lose themselves. Rather, they find themselves as they truly are meant to be. They find a means of repairing the hurts that give them a false focus. They are then free to live as better people.”
He shook his head. “Something about it doesn’t seem quite right.”
Pyron shrugged and his tone grew slightly terse. “Considering that the previous Trials pitted unsuspecting visitors against any number of horrors that, in many cases, led to their deaths or hysteria, I think we’ve moved to a better system. Come and see.” Without waiting, he guided Dariak from the room.
They walked in silence, spiraling up another three floors before coming to the Chambers of Trials. Rarely were more than a handful of chambers ever in use and, at present, only Dariak’s companions were undergoing the Trials.
He had been here before. Admittance to Magehaven was often challenged, and even in Dariak’s case, he had submitted to testing by the resident mages. He knew that a few floors higher up there was a group of mages whose sole purpose was to provide the energies for the Trials. When their protections were not needed from intruders, the Chambers were attended by willing members among the mages who wished to prove their worth in order to seek advancement. Completing a successive series of Trials was a requirement for a mage wishing to join the Mage Council.
Dariak’s admittance had been contested because he only engaged in two Trials; one upon entrance and one to earn a place among the Council members. But his bloodline was thick with the work of his father, whose experimentations had greatly furthered the mages’ goals and so Dariak’s place was all but secured. Though he hadn’t needed to submit to either Trial, he offered to do so in order to prove himself to others. He was among the youngest members of the Council then at the age of nineteen, but it wasn’t uncommon for a few members to be young.
The Trials themselves were arranged to push a person beyond their usual limits, not necessarily to annihilate them. Those with weaker abilities were challenged against somewhat lesser tasks, but Dariak wasn’t certain what that would mean for his friends, for each of them carried at least one shard of the Red Jade. He didn’t know if the jade’s power would amplify the Trial’s difficulty or if his friends would even be able to channel the jade’s energies at all.
His own Trials had been harrowing in their own way, but he never regretted attempting them. Instead, he rose to the challenge of battling against numerous elements at once, summoning paralysis spells against fire arrows and binding spells against creatures. He had exhausted his spell supply during his tasks, but they had also helped him to prepare for greater challenges ahead.
Two years after his admission to the Council, he had participated in the empowerment of the Trials. Linking with a handful of other mages to draw energy through a large diamond seemed silly to him at the time, but once the energies swirled around and they pulled through the mineral, he could sense the countless array of abilities that were available out in the world.
Pyron’s voice cut through Dariak’s reminiscences as he led the mage to a central platform that housed a crystal column extending upward through the ceiling. The floor was a murky white, like frozen milk, and it reached around in a wide circle, with Chambers extending off at set intervals. The walls of each Chamber were transparent from the central area, and Dariak could easily see his friends within their own cells, separately engaged in their own Trials.
The companions’ rooms filled with blurred visions from their thoughts, projected haphazardly upon the walls. Each was a manifestation of the energies coursing through them, which the walls drew in and mimicked temporarily. He could see a reflective bluish glow in Randler’s chamber, whereas Kitalla was surrounded by a wildly changing set of scenery. Gabrion’s quarters reminded Dariak mostly of Savvron, with the occasional appearance of blurred people, including himself, that he’d met along the way.
“I don’t recall this,” he said.
“As I said, changes have come,” Pyron gleamed. “We no longer need to send specific spells down into each location, for the energies themselves interact with the participants and create a world completely contained within their minds. The walls are enchanted with the power of fire to draw the energies into patterns of light that we can see. It allows us to have a sense of what transpires with them.”
“I don’t understand,” he muttered. “Where are the spell chambers? Where are the battling mages? Where are the beasts or traps?”
“Be calm, Brother Dariak.” Pyron clapped him on the shoulder. “Those rooms do exist for the men and women who prefer such challenges, but for the errant trespasser, these Chambers suffice.”
“What control do you have over what happens to them?” he asked, suspecting the answer.
Pyron hesitated. “Little, I’ll grant you. But no one has succumbed
to death or despair since we have begun with this work. We owe it to the healing jade. The magic we have derived from it has allowed us this progress. Oh, it is progress, don’t deny that,” he said, seeing the refutation building in Dariak’s face. “We may be able to control the feral creatures within our walls, but it is a cumbersome trade to begin with, and now we lose fewer specimens than ever before.”
“Perhaps I have been away from my kind for too long,” he murmured. “This seems so foreign to me, otherworldly.” He pointed to the flashing images on the wall. “And that seems like an invasion of their private inner-most thoughts.”
As he watched, his companions were writhing about, fighting off their own internal demons. He noted that Gabrion was often pressed down to one knee or that he moved with a solemn grace. Kitalla, on the other hand, fared the worst of them all, if her pained expressions were any indication. He wanted nothing more than to break the connections and release them, but he knew he couldn’t. Even without the advanced magic they were using, disrupting the energies during a Trial could be disastrous for the participant and the empowerers above. Now with the energies twisting so intimately with each person’s experiences, he feared the repercussions of even speaking too loudly.
Pyron guided him from the room a short time later. “I know why you have come, Brother.”
“I must take the jades,” he replied.
“Yes. They are yours, by right,” the old man affirmed.
“I hear hesitation in your voice.”
“Some of the Council members have been reluctant to adhere to some of the old laws, including those of your return and what it would forebode.”
The Shattered Shards Page 19