Date: Fri, 12 May 2006 18:15:16 -0700
From: Trewin Greenaway <trewingreenaway@cronnex.com>
Subject: A Tale of Wizardry - Chapter 10

                  JESSAN - A TALE OF WIZARDRY Chapter 10

Copyright 2006 Trewin Greenaway All Rights Reserved

To learn more about me and the genesis of this tale, visit my website
http://www.cronnex.com/ .

I hope to post a new chapter every Saturday. If you're enjoying the
story, do let me know!

		   ooooooooooooo0000O000ooooooooooooooo

				Chapter 10


I PULLED MYSELF INTO A SITTING POSITION AGAIN, and Orien sat down beside
me. He put his arm around me, for I was shivering slightly, and as he
did so I realized I was completely naked. Surprised, I looked around
for my shirt. I had no recollection of taking it off.

Orien's arm slightly quivered; he was laughing. "Don't waste the
effort," he said. "The force immediately reduced it to shreds and cast
it out." He poked at something with his staff that looked like a
particularly clean sort of dust. I picked some up and looked at it
dumbly: it was the fabric of my shirt, reduced to the finest fluff.

I turned to look at Orien, who was himself regarding me gravely. "Are
you all right?" he asked.

"I think so," I said. "Why am I so exhausted?"

"For the same reason that walking through a raging storm is tiring," he
replied. "But you will find that your spirit will soon strengthen to
the point where you simply take pleasure in it. Which is just as well,
for you will eventually spend a good deal of time enveloped by it."

I sighed. But it was true - - I did feel my strength returning. Even so,
I wasn't in any hurry to get up. I stared at Orien. "Who am I?" I asked.
"And for that matter, who are you?"

"Well, as to me... well, my name you already know. But others would call
me the Mage Orien, for that is what I am."

I looked at his staff and smiled. "'Many purposes,' indeed," I said.
"But, ashamed as I am to say this, I don't know what makes one a mage.
Is it the same as being a wizard?"

Orien looked pained. "Since we should get to your first question, which
is by far the most important one, I'll explain, but briefly. A mage is
akin to a magician, in that he is, I am, mortal, and have acquired my
powers, such as they are, through study and practice. The difference is
that between a warrior lord and a common soldier. Mages belong to a
brotherhood of initiates; we're bound by oath to never use our powers
for mere personal aggrandizement nor to aid or abet evil.

"Wizards, on the other hand, if any still survive, belong to a species
separate from men, as much as they resemble them. They live many
hundred years and are the physical embodiment of one of the several
minor powers. Because they are a threat to He Whose Name Cannot Be
Spoken, they have been hunted down and exterminated by His demon
allies. I believe some still survive, but only by hiding themselves
well and little meddling with the affairs of men."

Orien sighed. "And to save you from asking, the demonic race has its own
users of power that mimic those of men, but are named sorcerers instead
of wizards,  necromancers instead of magicians, and warlocks instead of
mages. They are all dangerous and fell, but none are of any concern to
us now."

I could see that Orien was impatient to turn the subject to me, but I
felt certain dread at what I would hear. I got to my feet and crossed
the great expanse of polished floor, to where it looked over the sea.
With each step I could feel the great power of this place shimmer
around me. Orien arose and came with me, and we stood together looking
out across the water. On it, here and there, was a scattering of
fishing boats, and I felt a great yearning to be standing in one,
hauling in the net.

"And the Summoner?" I asked. "What about him?"

Orien made a dismissive gesture. "A lowly creature. A man enslaved,
channeling the force of his master. Such rarely live long or sink into
gibbering madness, since the weight of the power that uses them is too
great for their bodies or minds to bear for long. Very soon, you will
find them no threat at all."

I nodded, refraining from speaking my thought, which was that, as I'd
said to Alfrund about another matter, if those words were meant to
reassure me, they had done no such thing.

"Are you ready now to hear about yourself?" Orien asked gently. "After
all, you did ask me to tell you."

I looked at him, our eyes meeting. "Am I ready to hear what you have to
tell me?" I asked.

Orien sighed. "I can't answer that with certainty," he said. "What I do
know is that now you're in more danger not knowing than you're at risk
from what you're about to hear. Hearing it will change you forever,
it's true, but you already knew, even before what happened here this
afternoon, that you were on a path of destiny very different from any
other." He gestured toward my arm, where to my surprise, the Cronnex
glowed, visible even in the bright sunlight that reflected off the sea.

"In the confines of this place, and others like it, the sign shows
plainly, always. It does so because it signifies your sovereignty over
this place, the physical manifestation of your domain. In fact, as you
shall see, your very presence here will cause it to heal itself, to
call back into being, bit upon bit, almost all that was torn down,
except for the few parts that were contributed by the labor of men."

Strangely, this news gave me great pleasure, even as it startled me. I
found I greatly desired to see Sondaram given back its physical
solidity so it could reflect the great power of the site. As my mind
formed this thought, a great groaning was heard, a heavy cloud spilled
out of the fissures, the broken places, the gaps between stones. We
were blinded, and instinctively I pulled a blanket of force around us
to protect us both. There was a great rumbling, shaking the very earth
beneath our feet, like boulders plummeting in an avalanche down a
mountainside.

Indeed, it seemed as if we were in the middle of such, for in the murk,
massive shapes tumbled about us and there was a shrieking of stone set
firmly against stone. Then a cool breeze blew off the ocean, the cloud
of dust flitted away, and we found ourselves standing in a great domed
room, beside an opening, framed by a great arch, that gave access to a
garden, lined with stone walkways, with a great view of the sea.

Even as we stood there, a fountain appeared and began gurgling; trees
took root and grew, spread out branches, and produced a haze of
fragrant yellow blossoms. My first thought, when my amazement faded
sufficiently for thoughts to form, was that I wanted to walk these
paths with my arm around Alfrund and his around me, and my head leaning
against his shoulder.

This thought, with the accompanying slight swelling of my member,
reminded me that I was standing here with nothing on. Embarrassed, I
turned to hide it, but Orien, who had other thoughts on his mind and
not even noticed this tumescence, took me by the shoulder and led me
two steps through the arch. He directed my attention to the far corner
of the building, which, unlike everything else, was still a ruin.

"That," Orien said, "is the tower of this place. Standing on it, you can
see Gedd, if you wish, and far out over the ocean. When Wethrelast and
Gostranar have also been restored, the tower attached to each will
simultaneously come into being. This will, among other things, allow
you to pass from one to another of them in a moment of time. But their
purpose, above all, is to let you get high enough so that all the power
you feel here can be focused and used with unimaginable force. Think of
the tower as a funnel and you as the spout."

"Why do both the palaces have to be restored before this tower appears?"
I asked.

Orien shrugged. "I don't know. But if the tower had just now appeared,
your enemy would know and immediately dispatch a great army, to raze
everything on this side of the mountains and kill every living being.
And you could do nothing yet to prevent it. So perhaps the fact that it
alone remains in ruins is a sign that you haven't yet attained all the
power that is yours to wield."

He turned back into the great room. As I entered it beside him, a great
blue flame rose from the floor in its center, reaching up to the roof
of the dome. As we came closer, I saw that it was not a flame at all,
for it pulsed rather than flickered and it began a span or so above the
floor. So did the power of Sondaram manifest itself.

I stepped into it and felt it surge about me. As Orien had predicted,
the experience was already less draining, and I could sense the reverse
would soon be true. It was like running a long distance. The first time,
at the end, your legs shook, pain stabbed in your side, and you gasped
for breath. But as time passed, the same distance brought out the
strength that had grown within, and at the end you felt not tired but
glorious.

I stepped back out. "We should go back," I said. "More time than we
allowed for has passed and Grysta and Alfrund will be worried about
me."

Orien snorted. "Grysta and Alfrund know full well where you are and who
you are with. And time has not passed. Inside these walls it moves at a
pace determined by you. When we step outside Sondaram, you will find the
sun in almost the same place as when you stepped in.

"However, if you need some time to rest, explore your palace for a room
comfortable for sleep. I will wait here and be ready to continue when
you are refreshed."

These words stung a little because they touched on a truth that I had
attempted to hide - - I felt  I had experienced enough for one day.
Orien and Onna, I thought, would get along together famously. But it
was true that a good rest was just what I did need. And, almost as
much, I was curious to see more of this place. I looked around, this
time not toward the sea, but in the direction from which we had
originally come.

The entryway to the room in which we were now standing had on one side a
grand stairway that rose to the next floor, its steps made of thick
slabs of a shiny black stone shot through with glowing streaks of
yellow and red. I climbed these and discovered that they led to a
gallery that circled the great dome and into which opened a series of
rooms, each one possessing an elaborately worked wooden door. These had
no latch strings but instead a heavy silver ring that, when turned,
allowed the door to be swung open.

Each of these rooms was empty of furnishings or anything else, such
objects apparently being the things "contributed by the labor of men"
that Orien had said the magic would not restore. Well, all this
stonework was fine enough, but right now I would gladly give a column
or two for a soft bed and a blanket in which to wrap myself.

I found none, however, and eventually chose a room where the narrow
windows looked out to the north, letting in a soft and soothing light.
I crossed it to the darkest corner and began to lie down on the floor.
But as I did, I felt the force rising up to meet me. Of course, I lay
on top of it, as if it were a mattress. So floating comfortably an
arm's length above the flagstones, I rested my head on one of my arms
and fell almost instantly into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When I next opened my eyes again, I had no idea how long this had gone
on, for the light was exactly the same as it had been when I had closed
them. But I felt fully refreshed and strong enough, if still not
particularly willing, to learn my fate. I stood up and headed down the
glowing flight of stairs to Orien.

I FOUND HIM IN THE GREAT ROOM, sitting on one of the marble ledges that
ran around its side. He was staring at the great shimmering display in
the center of the room. "Do you know," he asked me, when I sat down
beside him, "what would happen if I were to stick my arm into that."

"I suppose it would do just what does to me," I answered, "flow around
you. And, if you commanded it, lift you up. After all, you are a mage."

"It would eat my flesh down to the bone in an instant," he said, "and if
I left it there still, burn away the bone as well. Even though I am, as
you say, a mage, and a very powerful one."

I stared at the mass of ethereal, pulsating blue in confusion. It had
never for one second occurred to me that it might be dangerous, not in
the sense that Orien described. Unlike water, you could breathe in it,
but like water, if you stayed immersed in it too long you could drown.

"You would have warned me," I said at last, "if it were dangerous." But
as I said these words I realized that once I had felt the force I had
forgotten Orien's very presence. It had drawn me to it as mother drew a
son. And then I realized what he meant. "And Alfrund?" I asked.

"The same as me. And, as well, Grysta, the Lord of the Fort, the
Summoner, anyone else on this side of the mountains - - and on the
other side of them as well, save one, or maybe two beings who are not
unlike you."

I asked the question I most dreaded the answer to. "Am I not human
then?"

"No," Orien said quietly. "You are not. You look like us, you experience
the same emotions, you even, mostly, think like us. But that is just to
make it possible for you to follow your destiny, which is deeply
entwined with our own. You are one of the Nithaial, or the
Intermediaries, as they were also called, between mortals and Gesryma,
the Great Mother of Blessed Name.

"Now there is one other thing you should know about yourself. Since the
beginning of things, there have always been two of you, Galgaliel, the
one of light, and Elimiel, the one of darkness. You Jessan, are the
light one, and we now seek everywhere for your darkling twin."

"There is another of ... of me?" I asked.

Orien nodded. "So we dearly hope," he said. He pointed down to the
floor, paved with tiny tiles. These, over and over again, repeated an
emblem, half of which was displayed upon my inner arm. "The Cronnex,"
he said. "You are one half; he is the other. You play the day to his
night. Yours are the powers of air and water; his of earth and fire. In
the old days, either in your separate palaces or together at Gostranar,
your shared home, your role would have been to watch over and shepherd
all human life."

He sighed and shook his head. "But these are not the old days, and what
is destined for you now is not clear. We mages are practiced farseers,
but in this instance our vision has been blocked."

"Does Alfrund know all this about me?" I blurted out. "Is that why he
refused to become my lover?"

Orien smiled. "Ah, Jessan, always putting the important things first. I
actually have no idea what Alfrund knows, but I don't doubt that he
suspects enough to understand he couldn't offer you that.

"Even so, he loves you, and sees you as a charming boy who also just
happens to be about to come into great powers. As, in her way, does
Grysta. Unlike them, I knew what you are before I met you, and so as
much as you have charmed me, too, I look upon you in fear and
trembling, and so perhaps see you more clearly."

"Don't say that," I said hotly. "It's just nonsense. I may have these
powers, but I am still Jessan."

Orien raised an eyebrow. "It ill befits an old warrior and mage such as
myself to sit trembling in your presence, but that is just how I feel.
Tell me, if you believe otherwise, where I should draw the line between
the Jessan who washed my feet and rubbed them with salve and the Jessan
who stepped lightly into that manifestation of elemental power we see
before us and instinctively bent it to his will?" He lay his hand upon
my knee and added, "I humbly suggest that you might consider being a
little afraid of you, yourself."

He stood up. "I think you have heard enough from me for one day, as much
as there is left to tell." He looked at me then, and smiled. He went to
his shoulder bag, which he had left with his staff, and from it, after
rummaging a bit,  withdrew a folded garment. "Here," he said, "put this
on. It is my nightshirt, and so will look a little strange, but not like
strolling through town with nothing on at all."

After I had pulled it on, we walked around Sondaram for one last time,
and  I absorbed of it what I could. When we stepped onto the plaza that
spreads outside it, I found that, just as Orien had predicted, the sun
had hardly moved. I had also thought that great doors would close
behind us when we left, but that was not so. They did not need to do
so.

When we reached the top of the ridge, I turned back for a final look. It
glittered in colors as brightly as the sea, as fragile-seeming as a
jeweled box. When I mentioned this to Orien he said, "Jessan, nothing
can enter Sondaram without your permission. And to harm the place they
have to kill you first. Even then, as you have seen, the damage is only
an illusion."

"Wouldn't it be wiser for me to stay here then?" I asked.

"No!" Orien said vehemently, "the wise thing is to get you as far from
Sondaram as fast as possible. There is nothing your enemy would like
better than to pen you in here and wait until you were driven mad by
the confinement. You might kill thousands of them, which would itself
make you ill from effort, but your enemy has no shortage of warriors,
believe me. They would come and come until their bodies were heaped
about as high as the hills. And they would still come. Sondaram is an
abode of peace, not war, or at least not until its tower is raised."

After this exchange, I gave up any effort of conversation, wishing only
to be as far away from Orien for the rest of the day as I possibly
could. And perhaps he sensed this, for he told me when we reached
Grysta's door that he had other business to attend to and would not
come to the house until the following day.

Naturally, though, he left me with a cheerful parting. "The reappearance
of Sondaram will hardly go unnoticed; the Lord of the Fort will soon
post a guard there - - I would be surprised if a squad is not hurrying
through Gedd already. And now that he knows for certain you didn't
drown, he will be considering what he should do next. It would be just
as well for you to return to being strictly the Jessan who is Grysta's
grandson and Alfrund's twerë."

"I don't know how to be anything else," I said shortly, and went in and
slammed the door.

==============TO BE CONTINUED===============