Harmonic Magic Series Boxed Set

by P. E. Padilla

When she finally drew close to Marybador and the end of her task, she felt a great relief. Crossing the ridge to where the lake was nestled, she felt the first bit of hope since she had left the Gray Fortress.

  She barely had the strength to row herself across the lake to the island and tie up the boat. As she stumbled toward the gate, she saw a vision, a dream, and it brought tears to her eyes. She imagined her father, whole and healthy and alive, running to her, calling to her. When he reached her and picked her up, things were fuzzy until she woke in her own bed.

  Rindu reached out and clasped Nalia’s hand on the table.

  “It was a harrowing experience, Iba, but one that is now over. You performed admirably, succeeding where most others would not. I am proud of you in this as well.”

  “Did the Gray Man give you a deadline for when the Sapsyra had to disperse?” Regi asked, more to end her embarrassment in watching the touching moment between daughter and father than anything else.

  “He did not. I got the sense that he wanted it done immediately, however.”

  Rindu looked at her thoughtfully. “Are you ready? Is now the time to make sure your appointed task is completed?”

  Nalia nodded sadly.

  “Yes, I believe we must disperse.”

  The Rusha gathered everyone together in the large amphitheater in which, only a few short months earlier, Nalia had won the competition and had her proudest moment. All of the remaining Sapsyra were there, as were the families of the fallen sisters and families of a few of those still surviving. Altogether, there were close to one hundred people in attendance, the sum total of the Sapsyra legacy.

  “Nalia has just given you an account of the mission to the Gray Fortress and the directives of the Gray Man.” She looked out over the people gathered there, many still wiping tears from their eyes at hearing the fate of their loved ones.

  “The time has come when we must disperse. If the Sapsyra are to live on as an order, we must for now keep ourselves out of sight. We must live our lives, train, continue to find disciples to the Sapsyra way, and bide our time. We must be patient.”

  There were arguments, mostly from the family members of the lost sisters, but also one or two from the remaining sisters themselves. All comments were discussed and when each person left the amphitheater to pack their things, Nalia believed that each of them would abide by the collective decision. She had made it clear that the Gray Man would view any defiance on the part of any of them as defiance of the entire group, causing him to hunt down and destroy them all. She trusted they understood.

  Most of the others had departed, after the remaining Sapsyra swore to meet every four months as the Zouyim had promised each other. They would keep in contact and they would eventually rebuild the order, returning to their home.

  Nalia looked at Regi. She was so beautiful, Nalia felt a pain in her heart that she was unlucky enough to be born so hideously ugly. She immediately felt bad for thinking it, though. Regi was her sister and her best friend, and she loved her dearly. If she was too beautiful for words, well, then Nalia would be happy for her. Her life was not all good, after all. Everyone had their good and bad.

  “Regi,” she said to her, “come with us. You are our family and belong with me and with father.” She saw her father nodding agreement.

  “No,” Regi said sadly. “I think it’s best if we split up. I don’t trust the Gray Man to keep his end of the deal and if we’re together, he can kill us all in one motion.”

  “But—”

  “Besides,” Regi continued, “I think there are some things I have to do on my own, some things I have to learn. The time when I rely on others,” she reached over and took Nalia’s hand with one of hers and Rindu’s with the other, “even family, is past. I have some thinking and growing to do. It’s better this way.”

  Nalia squeezed her hand and then pulled her friend into a hug. “Promise you’ll come to the meetings. Keep in touch. Do not make me hunt you down.”

  Regi smiled at that. “I promise, Towel Face. I wouldn’t want you to break a sweat or anything.”

  She hugged Rindu next. “Master Rindu, thank you for all you’ve done, while I was growing up and recently. You are truly as fantastic as Nalia has always said.”

  Rindu smiled and hugged her back. It felt good, like a father’s hug. She supposed that was exactly what it was.

  Picking up her bladed pole and her travel pack, she headed out, skipping until she got to the boat and started rowing toward the mainland. When she reached it, she waved and called out to them, saying, “I love you both,” until she could no longer see them.

  Once out of sight, she slumped her shoulders, put one foot in front of the other, and looked ahead down the road through a veil of moisture.

  Chapter 23

  A few weeks after their departure from Marybador, Rindu and Nalia were eating a meal with the farm family they had been staying with near Greenfeld. The family’s eldest son, Max, came bursting in through the front door.

  “I heard some news in town,” he said excitedly. “Rumor has it that there have been some attacks further up north on the Gray Man’s Collectors. Rumor says that it was women who attacked them, that they fought like they were five men each.” He looked toward Nalia and flushed. “I mean, like they were five people each.”

  Rindu raised one of his eyebrows at the boy and he stopped talking. “Who did you hear this from, Max?”

  “From one of the trader’s caravan guards. He said he heard it from more than one person on his travels.”

  “Did he say how old the news was?”

  “No, I’m sorry Master Rindu. I didn’t think to ask.”

  “Very well,” the Zouy said to him. “Thank you for telling us.”

  The young man rushed off to tell the other members of his family. Rindu turned to Nalia.

  “Do you believe some of your sisters may have decided that vengeance was the correct path after all?”

  Nalia tsked. “There are a few who may have thought that attacking the Gray Man personally was too great a task but that attacking his forces would do some good. Yes, I could see that happening.”

  “The Gray Man would see that as open defiance,” he pointed out.

  “Yes.”

  “He would see it as a breach in the agreement he made with the Sapsyra.”

  “Yes.”

  “We must go and see if he has carried out his threats.”

  “I agree.”

  They stayed the night with the family, thanked them for their hospitality, and left early the next morning, heading toward Marybador. Four days later, they arrived.

  As they made their way up over the ridge, anxious to get their first glimpse of their former home, Rindu had a bad feeling. It wasn’t his rohw warning him or anything so familiar as that. It was just a little prickle of foreboding, an ominous sensing.

  They crested the rise and looked down on Zyrqyt Lake. It looked as it always had, beautiful with its deep blue, almost purple water reflecting the clouds and the cliffs surrounding it. Then he turned his gaze to the island itself. He heard Nalia gasp.

  There was no need to go any further. From where they were, they could see that the buildings had been demolished, as had the walls. It looked like the Zouyim temple had looked, though, fortunately, without the bodies. It looked as if every structure on the island had been crushed by a mountain swung by the hand of a giant. There was nothing but rubble littering the area where the home of the Sapsyra Shin Elah had been. Even the great blocks that had made up the outer wall had been crushed and thrown aside.

  Nalia dropped to her knees beside her father, neither of them saying anything. The two stayed there, looking over the wreckage, for long minutes.

  Finally, Nalia rose to her feet and turned to her father. “Then there is nothing left. There is nothing of the Sapsyra in the world any longer.”

  “There is you, Iba. There is always you. Do not forget, too, that there are other sisters still. Never forget that.”


  “But for how long? The Gray Man has done what he said he would do. He has destroyed Marybador. Now he will hunt down the Sapsyra, including me. What hope is there?”

  “It is said, ‘hope is ever the strength of those who believe.’ We will evade the Gray Man. He will not have you.”

  They looked again at the ruins of Marybador, turned, and walked away, discussing what they would do, where they would go.

  The two traveled inconspicuously for the next several weeks, making their way toward the base of Kokitura Mountain, to the gateway town of Tramgadal. They arrived just in time to meet with the other Zouyim.

  Nalia was glad to see the familiar faces of the Zouyim monks. She greeted Palusa Filk warmly, the two of them being much younger than the others and so sharing a bond. She was glad to see Torim Jet as well, and the old monk Eilus Tang. But those were the only ones who were there.

  “What of the others” Rindu asked.

  None of the monks present knew.

  “I heard in a town not two days past that the Gray Man had called in the special units who were out in the field when the Sapsyra attacked the Gray Fortress,” Palusa Filk said. “He re-assigned them all as hunter units with the priority of tracking down and killing any Sapsyra and any Zouyim they heard rumor of. Perhaps the others were found, or maybe were evading the hunters and so could not make it in time.”

  “It must be so,” Eilus Tang said.

  Their discussions were brief, and tinged with the bad news of Marybador and the demise of most of the sisters at the Gray Fortress, the latter already being common knowledge. When all was said and done, they decided it was too dangerous to meet together, wary of the fact that if the Gray Man’s forces attacked them at that moment, both the Zouyim and the Sapsyra may be eliminated completely.

  With fond farewells and brave smiles, they left Tramgadal the next morning after a short sleep, promising that if it was at all possible, they would continue the work of the Zouyim and eventually establish the temple again. Nalia was sorry to see them go, another link to her past, happy life leaving forever.

  When it came time for the agreed-upon meeting of the remaining Sapsyra, Nalia and Rindu waited for a full day at the location they had agreed to meet. No one else ever showed up.

  “They were detained by other matters,” Nalia offered.

  “It is undoubtedly so,” Rindu answered.

  They waited silently, thinking their own thoughts, trying to talk themselves into believing that all the other Sapsyra were not dead. Finally, they had to admit none would show up and they headed toward the South. The Gray Man was stretched thin with most of his troops dead from the battles with the Zouyim and the Sapsyra and the southern lands had more promise for keeping out of his sights. It would take some time for him to recruit and train new soldiers.

  Far to the South, in an area they had never been before, they traveled, living day by day, trying to do their good works in helping save the common people from bandits and other dangers. This included, occasionally, protecting them from agents of the Gray Man, though they were careful not to allow any to survive to bring news to their master. Still, rumor being what it was, news of them spread, the lone Zouy and the Faceless Sapsyr who protected others from tyranny and danger.

  One day, while traveling through trackless forest in between two small villages, they stumbled upon a compound of sorts. It was comprised of a series of mismatched tents, arranged haphazardly and interspersed with items and machines the like of which neither Nalia nor Rindu had ever seen.

  While they were standing there staring, an unlikely fellow happened to be passing between tents. He was tall, but stooped, and his purposeful gait showed he was in the midst of some important task. His white hair stuck out from his head at awkward angles, and the same colored whiskers covered his chin. He seemed to be muttering to himself.

  He caught sight of them just before he entered the tent that was his destination.

  “Oh, oh,” he said, startled. “Hello there. Are you lost? You are a long way from anywhere. I’ve made quite sure of that. Can I help you with something?”

  The man invited them to sit and have a cup of water with him, during which he explained to them that he and his friends, several people with nowhere else to go, were hiding…in a way.

  “I am a scholar, you see. I search out artifacts and especially old books and scrolls. The Gray Man is apparently a scholar, too, and has been sending his Collectors to steal the artifacts I’ve found, but I have been able to keep one step ahead of him. Just barely sometimes, but still ahead.”

  Rindu trusted the man instantly, seeing that he was a good man, reading his intentions in his aura. He shared their story with him, to which the man uttered exclamations, asked questions, and took notes “for later use.”

  When their conversation was over, the man stood up and put his hand out for Rindu to shake. Not knowing what he was doing at first, the man showed him what a “handshake” was.

  “Rindu, Nalia, I would love it if you joined me and my small group of friends. We are all being hunted by the Gray Man, so we could all profit from being together, I think. Maybe one of my findings will help you to rebuild your orders as well. Who knows?”

  Rindu accepted, doing as the man indicated and shaking his hand, though he did not know what that ritual meant. Looking at Nalia, and seeing her slight nod, he felt a small spark of hope for the years to come. He could not tell why, but he thought this choice would bring him toward the best possible future. He would have to wait and see.

  “Oh, my name?” the man said. “Of course, forgive my rudeness. My name is Doctor Walter Wicket, but you can call me Dr. Walt.”

  Darkness is a part of life, as much a part as light is

  Embrace the darkness as you embrace the light

  and it cannot gain mastery over you.

  Zouyim Master Chetra Dal,

  The Twelve Forms of the Wind

  The fool stumbles about in the dark, but the wise man lights the candle.

  Zouyim Master Rindu Zose

  Prologue

  The cold stone was implacable as Ayim Rasaad pushed her body against it, trying to melt into the wall. The more she thought about it, the more the sound she had just heard seemed to have been a scream. Not a woman’s scream, though. A man’s. It was full of pain…and terror. Somehow, she knew it wasn’t just someone being tortured in the dungeon. Her senses were tingling. Something was not right.

  Swallowing hard against the dry lump in her throat, she edged her way down the hallway, sticking to the shadows lest she be seen and become prey, like the screamer. She didn’t plan on making her first night in the Arzbedim fortress her last in this world.

  That was who she was here to see, the Arzbedim, the a group of powerful energy users who were once Zouyim monks. Their craving for power had caused them to split off from the Zouyim temple and form their own order. Both groups used the rohw, the vibrational energy that the common people called magic, but while the Arzbedim pursued their own selfish goals, their former brothers always put others first, protecting and serving the citizens of Gythe. Leaving the Zouyim to join the Arzbedim was betrayal of the most serious kind. But that was unimportant right now. Danger was about.

  There was a feeling in the air, an awkward hum, almost like the entire fortress was shaking so subtly that one could only catch it on individual hairs, such as the fine strands on Ayim Rasaad’s arms that seemed to be standing on end and waving in a non-existent breeze. She didn’t like it.

  Rasaad looked down the darkened corridor, just a few feet from the secret door she had used to enter the fortress. Silicim Mant, leader of the Arzbedim himself, had given her instructions on how to secretly enter the fortress. He had promised to meet her and welcome her into the order, to discuss with her at length what she would be expected to do. But he was not where he should have been, not waiting where they were to meet, at the opening into this hallway. What could have held him up?

  The Zouyim defector was probably being p
aranoid, even silly. Silicim Mant was a busy man. If he was running late, so what? It was meaningless. She could be patient and wait for a few minutes before searching him out. She had met several of the Arzbedim before as they groomed her for inclusion into their order. She would not be accosted for remaining here and waiting for her contact.

  But what about that feeling? What about the scream? What about the unnatural silence that punctuated and emphasized the shrieking like someone shouting directly into her ear? What of that? She could argue herself in circles, but she didn’t like it. Her instincts were telling her that there was danger, death stalking the cold, drafty corridors of the Black Fortress.

  Ayim Rasaad’s fingers were going numb, the cold radiating into her wrists, making them ache. She pulled her hands from the wall and brought them to her mouth, silently breathing on them and rubbing them together. She could feel the stone leaching the warmth from her body where her back still touched the corridor wall, even through the clothing and cloak she wore.

  This was getting her nowhere. She would simply stride down the corridor until she found someone and then demand to be shown to Silicim Mant. She had been invited by the Arzbedim leader, after all. Yes, that was what she would do. She would not skulk in the shadows awaiting his pleasure.

  Taking a deep breath, she rocked herself into a straighter posture several inches from the cold stone. She lifted her left foot to begin walking and froze. Was that a footstep? Did she actually just hear a sound, or was she imagining it? Maybe it would be best to wait for the owner of the foot to come to her. Yes, that would be the best option. She was not afraid. It was just logical that she not jump out and scare the person coming toward her. She leaned back against the wall once more, slipping back into shadow.

  The soft footfalls came closer. Rasaad thought that maybe she saw a darkness projected on the rough granite, but it was difficult to tell in the dimly lit corridor. There. She was sure she saw something, the penumbra of a shadow, a slight darkening and distortion of the straight lines of the wall. A breath later and she saw the bald white head of Silicim Mant coming from an intersecting corridor. She breathed out a sigh of relief and started to step from the deep shadow in which she stood.