Magic's Genesis- Sword of Wilmamen

by Rosaire Bushey

  Grettune lay down her pack and carelessly erected their campsite to include a cooking fire in less time than it took for her husband to lift his waterskin. “If we’re going into that place tomorrow, I’m getting a good night’s sleep tonight,” was all she said as she made her way into her tent and collapsed on the cushions inside. She could hear Perryn and Krieger speaking outside, but neither spoke long or loudly. By morning, she and Perryn would be wearing unfamiliar clothes to hide their collars and entering a world they knew nothing about.

  Codex of the Prime Wielder

  Magical Limitations

  There has been serious discussion between Lydria and Grettune as to whether magical limitations may exist with certain wielders. To this point only Wynter, Lydria, Grettune, and Perryn have worn the wielder’s collar. Three of the four, at first glance, seem to have gained some mastery of the power, but Perryn does not show the same aptitude for magic at the levels and for the cost to his well-being as the others.

  Still, a theory develops as we consider our respective powers. Perhaps there are fields of magic that we are unaware of, that people are more prone to – like any field of endeavor in the non-magical world. Some people can play the lute, others can forge swords.

  Lydria is perhaps the most well-rounded of the four wielders with a notable strength in healing magic. Most of Wynter’s work, as we have been able to gather, has dealt with construction and destruction. Grettune’s strongest magic is that which allows people to work more efficiently.

  Perryn, however, has shown no proclivity toward any particular magic. During his training, his magic was weak compared to the level of pain and discomfort it caused him, yet at the same time, his natural constitution allows him to recover more quickly than either Lydria or Grettune. Even based on evidence from King Keldon, Perryn’s recovery is remarkable when compared to Wynter.

  It will be imperative for us to watch over new wielders and carefully annotate their training to see how magic presents itself to different wielders and whether there are any indicators we can watch for.

  Suddenly, the idea for a school of some sort makes more sense if we are to really learn about this power we possess.

  Lydria & Grettune

  16 - Qorghal

  As Drae Ghern wandered from their sight with his family and friends by his side, Lydria and the others turned to go back the way they had come – back to the world of the living – following Haustis back along the white path until they were again in the cave, the old man’s body slumped over in front of them, his eyes shut forever.

  Relin no longer held the sword he had found in the stream and he looked at Haustis for an answer but said nothing while Lydria prepared her grandfather’s body, and Hokra, seeing what needed to be done, began to dig a grave from the rock of the cave floor. When he had finished, they easily placed Drae Ghern’s body on the bed of stone and Hokra covered it carefully, fashioning a small roof-like tomb of the rock he built back up over the grave. Together, he and Lydria smoothed the stone with magic, and engraved the name of Drae Ghern the Eifen into the rock.

  When they had finished, it was Haustis who spoke. “The Sword of Wilmamen, as you name it, Relin, is our quest now, not the recovery of my father or our people. To find them, we must first find the sword. The spirits rarely show such a clear path.”

  “Where do we start?” Lydria’s question was on everyone’s lips and as each set of eyes cast upon each other, they all eventually end on Pars.

  “Pars, what do you think?” Pars sat down heavily, all the air of his body seeming to explode through his mouth as he cupped his forehead in his hands.

  “The Qorghal…this is not a place you wish to go, wielder,” he said, shaking his head but continuing quickly. “No one knows where the Qorghal came from, or why they are like they are, but this much is known - they care not for gold or gems. They do not desire peace as we know it, nor are they a warrior race, lusting after war and the glory found there. They simply exist and where they exist, others do not because the Qorghal kill. They have no great purpose in killing, no dreams of conquest or domination, simply the removal of any who are within their site. They reproduce quickly and in great numbers like insects, and their children grow almost as fast, coming into their full growth in only a handful of years. Because of this, they have many mouths to feed, and for this reason as well, when they fight, they do it with no great skill. If half their race dies in battle, there are fewer mouths to feed, and those who have perished will be replaced quickly. In some respects, it is good that people do fight them, lest their numbers grow so great they simply overtake all kingdoms by weight alone. What is most interesting is that for the first time, we have a story of the Qorghal taking prisoners – something that has never happened that we know of.” Pars clenched his lips together and furrowed his eyebrows in thought, sighed and continued.

  “If we must go to Nethyngal know this, that while the Chag Ca’Grae once lived in its halls, that was generations ago and the place now belongs to the Qorghal. A group as few as us would have a better chance rowing a boat across the Great Eastern Sea than trying to rescue anyone from Nethyngal.”

  “Yet try we must.” Lydria spoke to the man calmly, sitting near him and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. With his head down, Pars didn’t see it, but surely, he felt the warmth Lydria poured through him, encouraging his spirit and clearing his mind.

  “Thank you, wielder.” Pars had noticed and stood up, walking out the cave mouth and staring over the rocky landscape they had climbed to reach the cave. The stars shone down on the trees of the forest to the west but were unable to penetrate their thick shadow. Only the shades of darkness gave them a glimpse into how the hills under the treetops rose and fell. Pars pointed just south of due west toward a place where the shadows swallowed any light given by the stars. “In that valley, you will find Nethyngal and the Qorghal. They do not take to the high places as do humans. They prefer the swamps and low places.” He turned to the others who joined him at the cave’s mouth. “Even with wielders, I believe we will be found by the Qorghal long before we find them.”

  In the back of the cave, by Drae Ghern’s tomb, the group made a fire and rested, all of them knowing that both fire and rest would be difficult to come by in the days ahead. Lydria and Hokra went to the cave mouth as the others prepared for sleep and together, they summoned the help of their stones to find a path to the Qorghal but received little in the way of assistance until Lydria concentrated instead on the midnight black of the sword of Wilmamen. Then, a milky-white path to rival Drae Ghern’s spirit walk, materialized and pointed to the heart of the darkness Pars had shown them earlier.

  The next morning, the group spent a long time preparing their weapons, ensuring their blades were within easy reach, and maneuvering their packs and clothing so that they could fight. It was a routine Lydria had seen with her father in the army of Wesolk but had not witnessed with her friends. Even when they had entered Solwyn to destroy Wynter, there was not the intensity she felt as the first rays of the sun lit up the forest below her in the early morning – lit, that is, everything except the valley that plunged down into an unseen void.

  Kimi was the first to move after he had gnawed on his claws and scraped them on a tree. The big cat wished Lydria well and lopped off down the trail and into the woods. It was agreed that Kimi would travel north of the group, staying between them and their home, and that if needs be, he would find his way to Burvig. What the dragon could do, or would do, Lydria didn’t know, but she wanted her friend to be safe.

  Unlike the previous days, the walk through the forest was more orderly, with Haustis and Relin at the front and Hokra and Pars following behind. Strict quiet was always observed, and Lydria lent some of her power to allow them to be stealthier than they might otherwise have been. She also spoke directly to Haustis and Relin as well as Kimi, keeping up a silent conversation with one or more of them almost continuously. Several times during the day, Lydria used her magic to show her the pat
h. It never wavered.

  By the end of the first day there was no sign of the Qorghal, and even Kimi admitted to not having a scent of any of the creatures.

  “Could we be wrong? Are we going the right way?” Relin asked. He was duty bound to his people and the longer they took to find the Qorghal the more likely his quest would end in ruin. Lydria and Haustis assured him they moved in the right direction.

  “The Qorghal do not behave as humans or Eifen,” Pars offered his friend. Where we would have scouts and skirmishers wandering ever-widening circles, the Qorghal stay close to their cities. They do not wish for their presence to be announced by a small band that could be easily dispatched. Their strength lies in their numbers and their willingness to throw bodies at their enemies until they are overwhelmed.”

  Relin nodded gravely at Pars, but Lydria could tell it was not the news he had wanted to hear.

  That night, as Lydria woke Haustis for her watch, the Eifen woman stared hard into her sister’s eyes. “The air moves this way, from the center of the valley,” she said as if in a waking spirit dream. “I can smell death on the wind.”

  17 - Pars’ Story

  Lydria’s dreams were strange and discomfiting. The earth trembled, and the rivers ran red and as her dream-self floated above the landscape of her dreams, purple and blue hues of forest switching with pinks and yellows of the sky, she saw a hole in the earth, a place where even light did not escape, and her eye was drawn to the spot like a moth to a candle. Down she drifted and as she neared the pit, the colors shifted to browns, and greys, and dark tans. The rattling of the earth died away, replaced by a wind that whipped her clothes across her face and blew her hair straight, but she didn’t feel it’s bite. The pit was closing in on her and would swallow her as she fell and Lydria held out her hands, as if that act would stop the utter blackness from destroying her.

  Lydria awoke with a start, her back to a tree and Kimi draped across her knee, one eye half open looking in her direction. “You are having a bad dream?”

  The bobcat’s calm demeanor helped Lydria stay calm. Certainly, if anything had been amiss, Kimi would have felt it long before the others. But he was half-asleep and bothered only by the twitching of Lydria’s legs. She reached her hand out to scratch the tufted ears of her friend, ears that were easily as large as her hands.

  “Yes, I had a bad dream. I hope it does not portend ill for us.”

  “When have the dreams of any but the spirits mattered? If Haustis has had such a dream, I might sit up and take notice, but bad dreams come to all of us in time. I had a dream just the other day that I missed lunch. It was awful. Pay no attention to dreams, we have more important business ahead.” And with that, the cat rested his chin across Lydria’s shin and went back to sleep, giving her little choice but to do the same.

  When she closed her eyes again, she was once again flying over the rainbow-colored surface of Eigrae, but the pit was gone.

  * * * *

  By the middle of the afternoon, they all knew something was wrong and it started with Kimi.

  “There is a smell here that was not here earlier, but it’s not here, it’s far away. It must be very strong to have carried so far.”

  “What is it, Kimi?” Lydria motioned for the others to stop and Haustis came back to stand next to her as she continued her silent communication with the bobcat.

  The cat said nothing for a long minute as if he were trying to make up his mind. Through his eyes Lydria could see nothing out of the ordinary, but through his nose she breathed in once and reeled backward into Haustis’ arms.

  “What is that?”

  “That,” Kimi said, “is what dragons smell like.”

  “More than one?”

  “It’s hard to say, but I think so, yes.”

  Lydria motioned for Relin to come back and shared her information with everyone. Haustis immediately closed her eyes and Lydria concentrated on the Sword of Wilmamen, expecting to see the white trail leading them in the direction they were heading. Instead, the trail was faint, and led to the southeast.

  With no sign of the Qorghal, Hokra suggested continuing. “Whether or not the sword is there, the Eifen may be, and is that not what we set out to do? The Qorghal will be there, of that I have little doubt.”

  Whatever the others thought they did not say it. They looked to Lydria and she could see in their eyes they wanted to continue. Only Pars seemed unsure of moving forward, still, something in his manner caught her attention and as she stared into his brown eyes, they lowered and with them, his head.

  “Wielder, friends, I have not been complete with my story, and I am sorry.”

  What Pars could have not told them to be sorry about Lydria couldn’t discern, and a quick glance at Haustis confirmed that the Eifen also had no guidance from the spirits on the matter. With a glance toward Kimi, the cat left to patrol the forest, the others sat and faced the scholar. “Well Pars, I think it’s about time you tell us then.”

  To his credit, Pars didn’t mince or stumble over his words, but his story was not what Lydria had hoped to hear.

  “When I waited on Mardelston and the dragons came, they were not alone. As you know, they carried with them a man. He was thin with a ragged beard and covered in a linen shift such as a beggar might wear. I caught only a glimpse of him, and at first, I thought he was ill or injured, but then, considering he had come with a dragon, I thought not much of it. He stood near the largest of the three dragons who came to the island but said nothing, merely holding his hand on the creature’s side as if he were afraid to let go lest he fall.”

  Pars looked around to each of the group quickly and licked his lips, took a drink of water, lowered his head again and continued.

  “I don’t think the man saw me, but the dragons knew I was there. A voice in my head told me to remain hidden by the trees where I stood. I had no intention of doing anything other than that, but the voice seemed very intense, and the beasts were very large. Still, when one of them opened its mouth, the sound that came out frightened me, and I cried out in surprise, giving away my location. The man looked up and I felt as if I were being pulled toward him. I couldn’t stop myself, my feet kept moving no matter how hard I tried to stop. After several minutes, I was at the top of the crater where the dragon lay. The man sat with me and spoke to me. He wasn’t ill or injured. He seemed happy to see me and asked me what I knew about the lands beyond the lake.”

  Lydria and Haustis shared a quick glance and while both wanted to start questioning Pars, they didn’t dare interrupt him for fear he might not speak again.

  “He was quite extraordinary, if I may say,” Pars looked up at the group huddled around him as if a smile might lessen their intensity. It didn’t. “Up close he was not what he seemed from a distance. His face was red like it had been horribly burned, and several of his teeth had come out. He smiled, and his voice was reassuring, and pleasant, but while I wanted to believe him, there seemed to be a quieter voice, a deep, resonant voice inside me that told me to beware this man.” Pars sat up straight and arched his back, drawing in a large breath with his mouth closed and exhaling quickly, ready to press ahead with his story. “He really only wanted to know the same thing you wanted to know – he was interested in the Qorghal and when I mentioned the tale of the Sword of Wilmamen being buried within the depths of Nethyngal, well I thought he was going to hug me.”

  Pars paused again, as if trying to remember a detail during the moment where the man had reached out to him as if to lock him in an embrace. “There was one curious thing about this man and his burned skin. It looked as if part of his neck wasn’t burned at all – it was a curiously sharp line where the red of the burn stopped and the paleness of his flesh was whole. After he had thanked me, I must have slept because when I awoke he was gone, and you were rowing your boat toward the island.”

  Lydria waited for Pars to see if there were more to his story, and when it was obvious there was no more, she looked to Haustis and then Rel
in. For the benefit of Hokra, she gave an account of Wynter from their initial meeting until she stripped him of his collar in the Cobalt Tower more than a year earlier, and then to her discussion with the dragons on top of the mountain in Dragaven.

  “Could it be that Wynter can still use magic?” Lydria’s question was pointed toward Haustis, but she asked it of everyone, including Kimi, who seemed startled by the prospect. “Do the spirits think this is likely, Haustis?”

  Lydria’s question fell empty on her half-sister who was already sitting with her eyes closed, seeking out answers in the spirit world. As she waited, Lydria wondered if Burvig would know the answer to her question, and she believed that he might. The dragons, it seemed, had a very special connection with the stones that she did not possess.

  Waiting for Haustis, Hokra held Lydria’s hand in his own, and asked her to take a stone from her pack so that they might ask it for guidance in the same way they had asked it to find the Sword of Wilmamen. Holding the sphere in her cupped hands, Hokra’s large fingers under her wrists, Lydria thought of Wynter and how she had pried the collar from him with the Farn’Nethyn blade. As if in answer, she could see Wynter in the tower performing small magic. He heated food, mended clothing, juggled balls of light, watched the town from his window, and in Keldon’s presence, tried to make good an escape. The last image never ended well for Wynter as Keldon proved too strong for whatever magic Wynter attempted.