Quereth immediately stood up from his place in the audience. He remained quiet even though the silencing shroud had been removed, but his intent was clear. Lica and Frast joined him, as did two other mages with them.
But Dariak knew they wouldn’t be allowed to help, for they had no training as an empowerer. He looked around, wondering if any of the resident mages would stand to support him. The wait was unbearable, but he didn’t care if none stood up. He would do it alone if he needed to. Pyron scanned the crowd, seeing only Dariak’s traveling companions rising in support.
“No one, then?” Pyron asked.
At last, one mage stood up, and it was one that Dariak did not expect. Kerrish rose from his perch and glared at Dariak. “I will empower this attempt, lest you die.”
Dariak didn’t understand the motivation and wondered if the mage would try to interfere with the process. More likely, he was curious enough about whether Gabrion could be safely removed from the Trial and his curiosity won out. Kerrish had his own ghosts to deal with. Unfortunately, some of those ghosts despised Dariak directly.
Pyron waited a moment longer but no other mages offered to assist. He faced Dariak again with the next announcement. “As for your second request, the Council has decided that you must prove your worth in order to receive the jades.”
Enraged, Dariak couldn’t stop himself. “This is preposterous! Very well, then. First I will release my friend from his Trial and you will see that I succeed. Then I will personally engage in a mage-battle with any member of the Council who has denied my request for the jades.”
This challenge incensed the Council. Dariak’s supporters hated the injustice of it, whereas the mages who denied him were insulted by his words. Pyron rose up and called for silence in the chamber.
“Your challenge is unacceptable,” Pyron declared.
“So is your denial of my rights,” Dariak said. “Let them face me themselves if they think I am unworthy of possessing the jades. Let them see my inner strength as I seek to fulfill my father’s life goal. Let them see my determination as I prove my worth. There is no other way to convince those who doubt me. Pit me against them and I will show them.”
Pyron looked around at the Council to mixed reactions. The men and women who had denied him were either afraid of such a challenge or eagerly looking to squash this upstart mage. Pyron wondered what course of action would be best for his tower. He saw the inner fire in Dariak’s eyes and he decided. “You make a convincing argument. The Council will deliberate. I will offer two choices to the Council now. First, we will vote again on allowing you the jades as requested. Failing that, those who oppose you will stand against you in battle.”
The Council was furious with this turn of events, but the fiery deliberation wall was set up again. Dariak appreciated this measure, for the weaker mages on the Council would likely change their votes in his favor, and it might be enough to grant him the jades without the fight.
The discussion went on for some time. Dariak waited as patiently as he could, but it was irritating. He wanted to leave this fiasco and start making plans for helping Gabrion. He had no idea how he would go about it, but he knew he would find a way to succeed. The trick would be to disconnect the energies from Gabrion’s mind. Somehow. It wasn’t much different than the problem facing the errant mages who lost their way and became border guardians.
At long last the glowing wall dissipated and Dariak waited for the final decision. Pyron rose up again and announced, “Upon completion of your first task with the Trial, you will then face the five mages who have decided against you.” He gestured to the Council and the five mages stood up, including Farrenok and Kerrish.
The decision made Dariak even more suspicious. If Kerrish was deciding against him, he wondered once again if the mage wouldn’t try to impede his success with freeing Gabrion. He would have to keep himself on alert.
The Council was dismissed and Dariak turned to explain the situation to Quereth and the others. “Your support means much, friends, but we can’t insert you among the empowerer station without training, and we simply don’t have time for it.”
“I understand.” Quereth looked sadly at the room as it emptied of its participants. “I always yearned to be part of the mage circles here in Hathreneir. I always wanted to learn from them and then bring my new knowledge back to our people. Yet now that I have seen some of these inner workings, I realize that men and women here are not so different from those at home. I regret that these people cannot see your noble heart.”
“Thank you, friend.” Dariak smiled. “It is not everyone, though, as you well understand. For some, it is a fear that the jades will be gone from them forever. Or worse, that there really is no hope for peace. Whatever they say, we all want true peace, not just freedom for mages.”
Quereth nodded. “But you also forget that some are jealous of you. Be wary of them, Dariak. They will hurt you if you aren’t careful.”
“It’s a good point. An unfortunate one, but good nonetheless.”
Chapter 20
Healing Gabrion
Dariak and Randler spent the next few days with some of the acolytes in the library, searching for information regarding the Trials. Though Dariak knew much already, he feared that his planned intrusion into Gabrion’s mind would render them both senseless. The research was disheartening, for all anecdotes relating to breaking into a Trial led to the loss of mental faculties. No one had ever accomplished it, but he knew he would have to find a way.
It didn’t help matters that Kerrish would be the backup support. The old mage had always quarreled with Dariak in the past, and his arguments during the meeting with the Mage Council made him a poor choice in Dariak’s eyes. However, he also knew that Kerrish had lost two sons, a daughter, and a handful of trainees, either to the Trials themselves or to their own failings. Some of them had died; the others became border guardians, not that they would recognize Kerrish any longer. Some mages secretly felt that Kerrish’s teachings must be flawed, but his own magic was ever flawless. If Dariak could succeed in this attempt, it might give the mages a means of preventing further damage from the overuse of spells, or perhaps to find a way of healing those whose minds had broken.
Dariak assured Randler that Kerrish’s selfish goal would keep him level-headed during the intended healing. He didn’t expect Kerrish to turn and sabotage the proceedings. At least, he convinced Randler as much, though in truth he wasn’t actually so certain. He didn’t tell Randler that Kerrish objected to Dariak’s sexual orientation; it would only make the bard worry.
Quereth and the others offered as much support as they could muster, both in researching the library when Dariak’s eyes grew weary, or by sparring with him in preparation for the battle that would occur after his success with Gabrion. Lica orchestrated those, mostly, focusing Dariak’s thoughts on success and the aftermath. It was a brilliant scheme that kept Dariak sharp and feeling as if he could indeed safely free his friend from the Trial.
When the time came, Pyron called for a halt of all magic within the tower. He assured everyone that it would be a temporary respite, and he urged them all to fill their bellies and take their rests, so as not to disturb the energies that would soon be engaged.
“Ready, little mage?” Kerrish sneered as they gathered together in the chambers of the Mage Council.
“Of course,” he replied confidently. “Aren’t you? You seem a little shaken. Not nervous, are you?”
The old man scowled and strode off toward the rear door, which led to a set of stairs that wound up toward the crystal chamber near the top of the tower. Dariak followed solemnly, touching his pockets and feeling all the items he had with him. Mostly, they were for defensive spells to help keep him grounded here as his mind ventured forth, but he also had some offensive magic planned just in case Kerrish tried taking over.
Dariak had asked for several concessions leading up to this moment, but only one was granted to him. He only hoped it would be enough. Randler went to the c
hamber where Gabrion was essentially entombed and set himself on a chair with his lute, some food, and water. There, he would try to maintain a sense of calm while Dariak was working his magic unseen from above.
Kerrish and Dariak spiraled up the stone steps and reached a level flooring that was wide open to the nighttime sky. A soft breeze swept through the room and Dariak breathed in deeply, cherishing its scent. Kerrish turned to him and then sighed with exasperation, but Dariak would not be rushed.
Once he felt sated, Dariak strode toward the center of the room, where an enormous diamond rested on a crystal altar, reaching halfway up to the ceiling. Winding around the altar were several chairs, benches, or beds, and upon them were four mages who were busy empowering the tower’s defenses, including the Trials. Kerrish was not one to lie down as he worked and so he took an empty chair and propped himself in it officially. He glanced back at Dariak and prompted him to take a seat and to begin the process before the night wore too thin.
But this was Dariak’s task. He had chosen nighttime for the darkened sky so that the light would not fluctuate during the process. No clouds passing over the sun or even the motion of the sun itself would interfere. He had been in the chamber when the sun’s rays had struck one facet of the diamond and reflected the light painfully into his eyes. But once tied into the diamond, it wasn’t easy to let go, so the shock hadn’t pulled him from the empowerment. It was a safeguard of the system, for if the mages could be so easily disrupted in their work, the defenses would falter. Still, he didn’t want to risk even that much of a distraction.
Dariak also chose a chair for today, though he usually opted for a bench so he could shift and stretch out if needed. He closed his eyes and drew the air in more deeply, while he heard Kerrish murmuring the chant that would grant himself access to the diamond. A dim blue glow shone a few paces away and Dariak knew that Kerrish had connected. It was up to the old man to send the four empowers back into themselves and to await further command. He did so with such efficiency, Dariak was admittedly impressed. Within a few minutes, only Kerrish himself was connected to the diamond. Now it was Dariak’s turn.
He pulled three items from his pocket; a small piece of diamond that had come from the larger gem itself, a flask of water, and a miniature lute that Randler had given to him as a memento. The bard had been carving it at night while Dariak meditated, and he hoped it would help them to maintain a semblance of a connection during this task.
Dariak sipped from the water and held the diamond shard in his left palm. “Correnectus rizhulier harrethorian factentius enshirthen orrulus fathrinhorius shashtennei.” The diamond shard glowed and he reached it forth until it touched the larger mineral. The facet of diamond took on a deep blue hue and Dariak felt himself pulled within.
The sensation was as jarring as he remembered. His mind leaped from his body, almost like waking slowly from a dream and finding the will to pull himself back into slumber. It was an odd disconnection from reality, where the only emotion he felt at first was sheer panic that he would never be whole with his body again. Soon, logic reminded him that he had done this before and he was only channeling his thoughts.
Kerrish appeared soon after, taking the form of a swirling black and red cloud. Though he spoke in the language of mages, it sounded perfectly intelligible to Dariak. “Begin now your ceremony. Dally not longer than you must.” A red bolt shot forth and the energizing blast filled Dariak with strength. Kerrish clearly wanted this task over with promptly and was going to ensure that Dariak’s strength would not wane. With a nebulous nod of his own, Dariak focused his thoughts and let himself spiral downward into the floors below.
He had traveled this way when empowering the Trials, but he knew the pathways had changed with the new regime. His mind tugged toward the left but those were no longer the Trial rooms being used, so he sharpened his thoughts and bent them to the right, where his mind slipped through a narrow opening and plummeted into the next few floors below. A vast white expanse opened before him and he felt a strange, yet familiar, warmth nearby.
As he contemplated the warmth, he could sense a pleasant melody wafting through him. He knew instinctively that it was Randler, offering his support the only way he could. He wanted to listen to it, but there wasn’t time. Kerrish reminded him of the urgency with a few quick jabs of energy.
Dariak scoured around and followed another source of warmth nearby, knowing it would have to be Gabrion. He twisted himself around and floated forward, following the sensation until he entered the warrior’s prison. But though Dariak had prepared himself for many possibilities, the one that occurred had not been one of them.
Once Dariak was fully inside Gabrion’s chamber, he was immediately whisked within the warrior’s thoughts, and his own self diminished so greatly that he barely remembered why he was there or that this was, in a sense, unreal. Thus when Dariak’s magical self was dropped into a gray-brown town, he knew vaguely that it was Savvron, but he knew little else.
His essence reshaped into a body as he examined the surroundings. The buildings were ramshackle huts, but they were well-used, not untended. He couldn’t see more than a few yards away, and he kept rubbing his eyes unsuccessfully for clarity. It was as if a thick fog lay beyond, obscuring the information he needed most.
A warbled scream echoed and Dariak turned sharply toward its source. A young woman was running in terror, and she wasn’t alone. Several other villagers ran with her, one of them knocking her down in the process and continuing on. Dariak ran over and hefted her back onto her feet, then he looked to see what chased them, but whatever it was existed beyond his range of vision. He took a few steps forward, but someone grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.
“No, you mustn’t,” cried out a middle-aged man. Dariak wondered if he knew him at all, but he couldn’t place the frightened visage. “Flee while you can!” As if Dariak couldn’t understand, the man tugged on him once more in demonstration.
With all the terrified screaming, fear soon gripped him. There was mass panic everywhere and the emotions swept him along. It didn’t help that he could barely see and had no real idea where he was or why everyone was so scared. He turned and ran with the villagers, surprised to see that the fog stayed with him. As he ran forward, the misty ring remained equidistant from him. He wouldn’t be able to see anything unless he was physically close to it, he realized. That meant, of course, that he wouldn’t be able to see the oncoming terror until it was completely upon him, and then it would be too late.
To make matters worse, some of the running villagers who were coming toward him fell and were swallowed up by the fog, as if the monster on the other side was reaching out and grabbing them, drawing their careless forms into its maw and devouring them. Dariak screamed and bolted, crashing into a woman and knocking her senseless. He didn’t dare help her up, but continued sprinting for his life.
He kept running and, moments later, he saw a young man approach another fallen woman, helping her to her feet, then ushering her onward. Dariak gaped at the young man as he stood there at the edge of the fog and awaited his doom. He looked like he was about to head out into disaster, so Dariak did the only thing he could do. He ran over and grabbed the man’s shoulder, spinning him around, and urging him to flee. But the young man wouldn’t listen. He stood there resolute, almost bewildered, so Dariak tugged on him again as the cries of terror echoed through the village, then he ran off by himself, unable to help the poor fool.
The mage sprinted onward in a blind panic. Tears streamed from his eyes, clouding his already foggy vision. All he knew was that people were fleeing, but no longer aimlessly. No, now they were running from him. He must have terrified them with his own fear, but he called out to them and told them to calm down and that he meant them no harm. He was just a visitor and he had no idea what was happening.
At the edge of his foggy vision, he saw a girl fall and he wanted to reach out to help her, but another youth stepped in and righted her, sending her
on her way. Dariak yearned to approach the boy, the one brave soul among all of them, himself included. He wanted to know why the boy was so strong, so sure of himself. Then a taller man approached the boy and tried unsuccessfully to pull him away. Dariak was grateful, for he wanted to meet the boy and ask him… Ask him what, he didn’t know. But as he drew closer, the boy also lost his nerve and ran.
With a roar, Dariak followed, his feet thundering against the ground, his heart racing, and his mind reeling. None of this made any sense. He told himself he should stop, but the panic was too great. He ran onward, reaching out to the villagers for help, but he succeeded only in trampling them, after which they disappeared. He ran and ran, and at last when his lungs gave way, he collapsed in a heap. It took time to catch his breath, as people ran past him, arms flailing, mouths opened wide with their shrill cries.
But he was helpless on the ground now and whatever was chasing them would now be upon him. He tried scrambling to his feet, but his exhausted body would not listen. He turned over and watched a woman fall down not too far from him, and as a young man bent down to help her up, Dariak called out for assistance. The terror was coming and he didn’t want to be swallowed in it. But when he thought the young man would hear him, someone else approached the savior and yanked him away, or tried to at least. Then moments later, the young man saw his doom and bolted off, leaving Dariak yards away in a heap on the ground. He turned over, unable to rise, and knew that soon he would die.
The foggy edge of his vision wavered as a giant stumbled carelessly in, stomping about aimlessly. Dariak looked up and realized that it was some sort of overgrown ogre from the south. Ogres were vicious fighters and purely heartless, when it came down it. They were known for eating their prey alive, delighting in the horrific screams. Well, Dariak conceded, there were certainly enough cries here to sate the beast. Its massive feet pounded into the ground, and the vibrations made some of the fleeing villagers tumble to the dirt. Huge hands lurched around, trying to catch the fallen victims, Dariak included.
The Shattered Shards Page 22