The Adventures of the Peculiar Enchanter: The Haunting Past

A short warning before you go on: Some scenes in this story contain what may be described as disturbing imagery. I'm not quite sure how much affected anyone would be, so I'm putting this out there. If you're not sure whether you should skip those scenes or not, maybe you could ask someone who's already read the story. I was wondering whether we should start to include content ratings for stories like this.
O Wyramiere, the Twilight Star, silver in the lupine light
Caught between the realms of light and darkness
Thou strivest, thou strugglest, but thou failest
Cursed and tainted, always come too late
And night followeth, yet with promise: sunlight always returneth
“Geidrich the Azure is dead!”
Having almost bumped his way into the inn, Freithen emphatically bellowed these news to the noisy crowd gathered that unsuspectful night.
“Geidrich? Dead? Do you have your own stash at your home, Freithen, to get drunk before even coming here?” someone yelled back after the initial silence.
“Yeah! Geidrich can't be dead. He's like... the most magical!” a drunken voice added.
“No. It's true! A servant of the palace heard the King himself say so to his council. Mardolf the Orange found him dead three days ago. Apparently, he fell from a tower of his own castle”, Freithen insisted.
The new silence lasted longer than the first, but in the end the innkeeper broke it, “He's... Dead?”
This prompted everyone else to start talking, too.
“He really is?”
“What are we gonna do now?”
“What does this mean for us though?”
“Will Aesregnum invade us now?”
“Guys, guys, guys! There's no reason to panic. These are in fact great news!” someone's voice raised over the others.
“What are you talking about, Dank?”
“Think about it. Geidrich was a freaking magician. Imagine all the wonders of wonder and mythical riches he must have collected over the course of his life! And now it's ours for the taking!”
“Dank, you are a genius! We're gonna be rich!” Freithen replied.
“But didn't Geidrich have an apprentice boy the last few years?” the deep voiced innkeeper questioned.
“Yes, but he's missing!” Freithen informed everyone. “Oh, but it's perfect! He's vanished from the face of Crux and no one knows where he is! No one can stop us!”
Dank got up on the table, with a beer by his hand, and addressed the crowd, “If you want to sit around here and mope about an eccentric old man, fine with me. But if you want to get filthy rich then come with me! And you shall have no worries in the world!”
He raised his glass of beer and most people cheered at him and drank to his words.
“We're gonna be rich! And no one can stop us!” Freithen joyfully repeated.
~~~***---***~~~
Twenty three years later, Wiz Ardon entered the valley where Geidrich's castle resided. Having made his way through a narrow path cutting across the hills that surrounded the valley. Another time, Wiz might have been impressed by the fact that a site once broken to many little chunks was now united into a single bigger world and wondered how it happened, but instead he just apathetically walked on. He put one foot in front of the other and continued his way towards the centre of the valley. He progressed slowly, but steadily, hardly acknowledging his surroundings, just walking to the castle.
The memory of the freshly burnt down village returned to his mind despite his best efforts to force it away. His old home ruined and two bodies lying near the door, miraculously still standing. Two bodies he could hardly look at and yet almost impossible to look away from.
With an angry growl, Wiz shook his head and tried to think of something else. He'd allowed himself to sink into his sorrow once and it'd taken him three years to get over it, not counting the twenty years that'd passed, but he hadn't lived himself. He couldn't afford losing himself again. The world couldn't afford his being lost again. And yet, try as he might he couldn't get the images out of his head. He couldn't suppress his grief.
Submerged in his thoughts, he almost didn't realise he had finally arrived at the castle, but even when he did, he hardly gave it any thought. Nor did his mind rest upon the matter of the band of people ramming the castle's gate. He simply walked around them one by one, ignoring the loud bangs of the ram. It was a few moments before the people realised a newcomer was amongst them. The ram stopped and the chatter among the people intensified, some of them addressing the young wizard.
“Hey, who are you?” a louder voice was heard.
No answer. The woman who had spoken, the amount of jewellery around her neck, arms and legs definitely setting her apart, gritted her teeth as she followed Wiz with her eyes.
“What are you doing here, you idiot? This is our territory”.
Still, no answer.
“Answer me, you son of a brick!”
Silence.
“Look, pal. The loot of this castle is ours, so beat it!”
Wiz continued to walk and now was almost at the gate.
“I didn't want it to come to violence, but you are forcing me to it. Get 'im, boys”.
No sooner had she uttered those words, Wiz half-heartedly raised his arm, pointed at the ram, which proceeded to be pushed to his right knocking half of the gate's assaulters down. The rest, upon seeing that, hesitated to approach the wizard. This moment of hesitation was enough for him to snap his fingers and enter the consequently opening gates. The gathered minifigures gaped in surprise at the opening and closing of the gates. An awkward silence followed their noisy shutting.
“Erm, Lynia... what was that?” a man asked awestruck.
“We've been trying to break in for weeks. Hell, renowned thieves and adventurers all across the Crux System have been trying the legend of Geidrich's castle for years and years and yet they all failed, one after the other. And then this bastard comes, snaps his fingers and enters just like that?” Lynia, the noticeable woman snapped her own fingers repeatedly, but nothing happened. “I will not have it! Geidrich's treasure will be mine! We're going to break in, kill that son of a brick and get the treasure ourselves!”
~~~***---***~~~
Returned to Geidrich's tower. It always had something gothic about it, but the remembrance of Geidrich's death in it made it significantly darker. Was it just his mind causing that impression or had the magical influence on the castle changed it slightly but significantly? Wiz wasn't sure. But when he walked through its long cold corridors everything he saw felt familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
The state of disrepair the place was in reflected the loss of the wizard that owned it. Although its exterior looked almost as good as new, excepting one collapsed tower, the interior definitely had suffered for its long abandonment. In spite of the strong magic woven into the making of the castle, it was exactly Geidrich's essence in it that caused it to imitate its master's breaking. More often than not, the hallways' paving was cracked; there were places where the ceiling had collapsed; furniture was broken; murals were faded; paintings were ripped; door knobs were rusty. In addition to that, a thick layer of dust had settled over everything and spider webs were abundant.
Wiz sighed. Seeing all of this was depressing him. He remembered this place when it was still lively -even as its size was disproportinate to the number of two inhabitants, the two of them always managed to fill the space with life- and the comparison of the happy memories to the sad reality of the present reminded him of all that he had lost on the night of the Magical Convention. As if he needed more things to grieve upon.
As he seemingly purposelessly wandered through the halls, his feet eventually led him to the stairway that had been imprinted upon his memory.Looking at it, he felt repelled. He wanted to run away from that place and hide. But there was another force inside him that wanted to go back; go back and look at the site where his master had died. He stood there for many minutes, undecided. As he did, the ramming at the gate started again and it stirred him to life. Perhaps, it was the realisation that people were doing things out there and he was just standing there doing nothing or perhaps it was something else, but at that moment he decided and put his foot on the first step.
One by one, he ascended the steps, spiralling all the way to the top of the tower. He got out to the balcony and was immediately hit by fresh air. However, he was also hit by the heavy aura of the place, even so many years later. Although even the most talented magicians would have trouble sensing the obscure marks of the magical duel that had taken place there, Wiz had lived the incident and this personal attachment made him more sensitive to them.
Images and emotions of that dreadful night resurfaced inside him. Running on the stairs; finding the empty tower; seeing Geidrich fall to his doom; the malignant yellow eyes of his attacker staring at him. His fear; his sorrow; his master's agony; the attacker's hatred; someone's urgency and anxiety... Who was that from? They felt familiar. He focused his mind to that feeling, imprinted on the air and the tower's stone, and channeled his magic on it. Closing his eyes, a blurry image formed in his mind. An orange figure was standing in the moonlight. Mardolf? But it wasn't him whom he'd sensed. No. It was definitely someone else. An entirely different person.
He continued to try and another image replaced the previous one. A face presented itself to him, a sweet, but anxious face of pale skin, green and brown eyes, golden hair... Ellwen? She'd been there that night? Had she known? Had she come after him? What had his beloved Elemiere been up to after their first meeting? Ellwen hadn't really talked about the time between then and her finding Kingston. Was she hiding something from him?
The questions were many and he had no answer, but the heavy atmosphere still called to him and he was overwhelmed by negative emotions again. The suffering and the anger of the night were prominent and they became increasingly painful to him until he could no longer stand it and ran away. He reached the bottom of the stairs panting and stopped. The influence of the tower was beginning to wear off, yet he did not dare to go back. He caught his breath and started to leave. Yet, at that moment he realised something was nagging him. Something he'd overlooked. Something he'd subconsciously noticed, but his conscious had not addressed. What was it that he'd missed? And why was it important?
~~~***---***~~~
Wiz stood before the door considering what he was about to do. He wasn't really indecisive this moment -he knew he was going to enter the room eventually-, but a part of him surviving from his childhood opposed his entering. Geidrich's bedroom had always been out of bounds for him during his training. At the time, he'd thought that his master kept some seriously advanced stuff in there and he couldn't be allowed to go near them, but now he wondered whether it was actually so that Geidrich could maintain some personal space.
Wiz tried the knob. The door did not open. He felt the door with his hands and sensed the spells woven into it. Time gone by and caster died, they'd grown weak and Wiz had no difficulty shrugging them off. At second try, the door opened with a creaking sound that resonated in the silence of the castle -if you exclude the occasional bangs of the ram. He walked through the doorway and inspected his new sleeping quarters. He'd already been to his old room and it just didn't feel right. He wasn't a young, innocent wizard apprentice anymore. He felt too differently to that time to be able to live there now. He was master of the house now and as such he'd get the master's room.
A double bed made of wood intricately carven to depict a Morpheus-like entity at work in weaving people's dreams occupied much of the room's space. A closet, a drawer by the bed and a desk filled with old pieces of parchment and books took up the rest. Yet, Wiz's attention was drawn by an oil painting hanging on the wall. It depicted eleven individuals, each one with garments of different colouring. Wiz instantly recognised the ones in light blue and orange, even though Geidrich and Mardolf were a lot younger than when he'd met them -not in their early youth, but still significantly younger. One had brown hair, the other blonde, but Mardolf was already growing a beard, which however did not look as majestic as in the present. The two of them stood side by side and their faces revealed no worries.
The dwarf in brown he also easily remembered from the Magical Convention. He hadn't really talked too much with him, but he remembered his name was Galor. He had his hand at the hilt of his hammer and looked more serious, but the corner of his mouth was smiling. To his right, there was a man clad in green, who looked like he was an elf. He had long brown hair, a fair complexion and an otherwordly air. Wiz didn't know what to make of his expression. He believed he had seen him in the Convention, too, but never talked to him. Between the elf and Geidrich, a man of a dark complexion wearing purple robes stood. He stared at Wiz knowingly with a grave expression. At the centre of the painting was a black haired woman in a white dress. She looked sad for some reason. The red-dressed man next to her had burning passionate eyes, yet at the same time there was a very composed way in which he stood. Next to him was another person he was pretty sure he'd seen the night of the Convention. Illustrated in garments of pink, the woman he assumed was Azira the Pink had been captured in a state of eternal laughter. A woman of outstanding beauty, her colour scheme and demeanour made her look out of place. Or was he prejudiced because of what he'd heard of her? Two more women followed, in blue and yellow. They appeared to be living in bliss, untouched by time. The blue hair and eyes gave the first one a special air, but the latter's mischievous expression was as worrisome. Lastly, the last figure was wearing a black cloak with a hood almost concealing his smiling face, which one had to admit was rather handsome and winning.
The Council of the Enchanters. Geidrich had never spoken to him about it. He'd only learnt about it from Ellwen and after that there'd been no time to ask his master, as he'd been murdered soon afterwards. Why had Geidrich neglected to tell him about it? He'd told him a lot about his life, but never about this part of it, which judging by the oil painting in his bedroom was an important one. All Wiz knew was that it was a group of enchanters -well, duh- who disbanded for reasons obscure to him, but all the important magicians of the thirtieth century seemed to have been part of it.
Wiz felt angry at his master for not telling him. He felt betrayed. Had Geidrich not trusted him? It'd been a long time since he considered this matter, but now it came back to his attention the wound felt as fresh as ever. Geidrich had never spoken to him about it and then he died, making sure he never would. What else had his master not told him?
BANG!
The adventurers outside did not fail to consistently try to break through the gates and Ardon found it very annyoing.
“Gah. They are intolerable! How is one supposed to study in that environment?”
Study. Yes. That's why he was here. Geidrich's death had left him with his magical training incomplete. He couldn't find another master, but he could learn by himself. He could explore his magic and the extent of his talents. He could experiment and invent. He could read from Geidrich's extensive library. He could become the best enchanter he could be. And help the world.
He placed his backpack on the drawer and walked out of the room, not bothering to close the door. He slowly made his way for the library while the sound of the ram harassed his nerves. But as he headed that way, he had a change of mind and ended up in another place entirely.Through the back door of the castle he found himself at a little garden fenced by shrubbery grown wild and unruly. There in the middle of the long unattended weeded garden, a single gravestone stood. Engraved on the stone were the following words:
Geidrich the Azure, 2931-2998 AF
Beloved Friend, Respected Master, Wise Enchanter
“When night followeth, remember that sunlight always returneth in the morrow”
Wiz stared at the gravestone and its inscription for a long time. This was where the broken body of his master lay -or what was left of it. His mind wandered to the subject of Geidrich's funeral. Who had attended it? Mardolf and the other members of the Council perhaps. Other than them, Wiz knew no friends or family of Geidrich's... Other than him. He would have liked to have been in the funeral. Instead, his master must have been buried by a bunch of people who pretended to care about him. By then, he'd lost count of the times he'd regretted his reaction to Geidrich's death.
Although he'd read the inscription many times already it was only after a while that he focused enough on it to realise what it was saying. Geidrich had only lived sixty seven years. He always thought he was older. He could have lived so much more... And then there was the third line. Why did he feel that it was directed to him? Had it been Geidrich's idea or did Mardolf add it to send him a message? Whatever the case was, it wasn't really much help. Wiz understood that life could get better, but it didn't negate his suffering. It didn't help him get better. He grew angry at Geidrich. Was he arrogant enough to think that while he left this cruel world, this sort of talking would help Wiz? He abruptly turned away from the grave and went back into the castle.
After all his detours he finally arrived in the library, his true destination long ago. He looked at shelf after shelf full of books and scrolls. This place had once been heaven to him. Now, his mind was too numb to such sentiment. He simply, emotionlessly approached one of the bookshelves and picked a book. He sat on the floor, opened the book and began reading. Unimpressed by the writings of the author, he quickly grabbed another book and then a third one.The books failing to satisfy his high standards and his journey exhaustion catching up with him, the hours passed slowly and monotonously.
Wiz was walking down Burkborrow's central road. Burnt, still smoking buildings with collapsed roofs and walls barely stood on his two sides. Some didn't even do as much.The crisped, no longer recognisable bodies of Burkborrow's citizens lay all around the road and the wrecked houses. Wiz would look away, but the dead villagers were everywhere. The feelings of revoltion brought turmoil to his stomach. He continued down the road and stopped at the house he most anxiously wanted -and feared- to see.
Only the door and the surrounding wall were left standing.A curious thing, some symbol was carven and then drawn on the door.It resembled a black star outlined with bronze lines, similarly coloured rays stretching outwards.Wiz knew what he would find on the other side of the door, but still, almost as if possessed, he opened it. And when he witnessed his dead parents,an unwordly scream of agony was heard.
The scream of horror filled his ears until he woke up in the library upon which Wiz realised he was the one screaming.It took him a moment to stop, but the dread remained. He tried to get up from his book-surrounded spot, but then he noticed he was already up... and his body was left behind among the piles of books.He tried to find himself, but couldn't. He could see, but not be seen... He was merely a disembodied perception hovering in the air.
The feeling was most peculiar, but Ardon found himself curious to discover what he could do in this form. He willed himself to move and he did -or rather it felt more like zooming. The magican zoomed away from the bookshelves and out of the library. He wondered where he should go and he immediately felt himself pulled towards the castle's collapsed tower. He speedily zoomed through the castle, passing through walls and ceilings until he arrived at the ruined tower. He ascended to its broken top and felt an ancient power beckoning for him from there. Through the rubble he jumped out of the tower and fell through the air, suddenly feeling the wind on his face; his body was rematerialising.
He landed on his feet and hands, but the fall didn't hurt as much as the enchanter in training would have expected. His assumed body appeared to be less physical than made of an incorporeal light-gas-like essence mimicking matter. Looking around he found he was in a forest. Looking back, he saw a single dark half-broken tower. Where had he ended up?
Extraordinary trees surrounded him on all sides. Their bright green leaves appeared to be emitting the faintest of green light, and their bark was almost golden. Yellow flowers blossomed on them. Wiz spent a long time examining them. As he did, he began to concentrate on his other senses as well. Some birds were singing a cheerful tune a few trees away. A squirrel was chirping somewhere. The melodious sound of a stream's running water came from nearby. A soft breeze was blowing gently on his face and yet Ardon could not understand what direction it was coming from.
Most of all, though, Wiz was charmed by the sound of an enchanting music. It sounded like the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard, but the next moment he could never remember what it was like and so he could only focus on it all the more so to enjoy its caress on his ears. He remained entranced for what could have been hours, but when he snapped out of it, he knew he needed to find the source of the music. Yet, it seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. He inspected the woods around him and without overthinking it chose a direction.
He began running through the trees, putting all his strength into getting nearer to the music. But one moment it was heard from the left, the other from the right and then it came from the back. The music appeared to be mocking him into wandering about aimlessly. Gradually, a funny feeling took over his arms and legs and he had goose bumps in his stomach. Step by step, his speed lessened and the world enlarged around him. Eventually, he ran out of breath and stopped in front of a pond.
By now, his whole body felt all weird. Trying to move his limbs was clumsy and everything's state felt different. He stepped near the pond and looked inside it. Wiz was shocked to find his body to have shrunk to that of his childhood! So surprised he was he couldn't take his eyes off of the little pool of water and time went by.
“Be careful. I believe the lake where Narcissus drowned is somewhere around here, too”, an upbeat voice spoke from behind him.
Turning around, Wiz found a tall and slender man of pale skin and silver wild hair staring at him with his green mischievous eyes.He was dressed in a frock coat, but it was dirty and raggedy and more fitting to his face, full of mischief.
“Who are you?” Wiz asked and was surprised at how hich pitched and child-like his voice came out.
“You may call me Tom! Everyone does. Now what would a little boy such as you be doing in such a place as the Melodious Forest?” he did not sound worried or kind as much as he sounded curious.
“I'm not...”, the wizard began to correct Tom, but figured there'd be no point in explaining he only looked like a child. “I seem to be lost. I don't really know how I got here”.
“Oh dear. How terrible! You must be so scared. I bet I can help you find your way again. You're from the Tower, aren't you?”
“Yes, how do you know?”
“ Well duh! Magic! Now, do you want my help or not?”
“Yes please”.
Tom gave him a wide toothy grin.
“Well then. I will show you the way back to the Tower... if you answer me this riddle one! Otherwise you'll have to live out the rest of your life in my manor as my esquire!”
“What, no!” Wiz protested, but was cut off by Tom.
“Which came first? The chicken or the egg?”
Wiz was dumbfounded, “Are you joking? This is no riddle. Everyone knows about the chicken and the egg”.
“If it's so obvious then, answer the riddle!” Tom dared.
“It's neither. A cycle has no beginning or an end”.
“Wrong!” Tom exclaimed gleefully, “The answer's the egg! Now, you will be my esquire!”
“What?” Wiz cried in an even more high pitched voice, “That's not true. You can't... You... ca-”, but as Tom made a celebratory dance, bearing an expression of malicious glee, Wiz realised he was in danger; and he ran.
“Hey, come back here, you cheating human! We had a deal!”
Ardon put all his strength in running away from Tom, but soon he heard the man coming after him. In hid childish form, he was a lot shorter than Tom and the latter soon caught up with him. Two cold long-fingered hands grabbed him by his armpits and lifted him off the ground.
“There you are. Now, you're not getting away. We had a deal!”
Wiz flailed arms and legs trying to escape.
“Hey stop it! You're my esquire now. You must love your master! OW!”
Tom had received a kick in the shin and instinctively let go of the young magician. A subsequent stepping on his foot, put the man in more pain. Once he recovered, Wiz had disappeared into the woods.
“You can't run from me, Wiz Ardon! There's no point in trying to get away!”
Shadow did not stop running. However,as he followed a path through the trees, one of them got in his way. The path had been clear and the tree hadn't moved, yet Wiz suddenly found it just in front of him. He barely managed to stop and change direction without bumping into it. He hadn't ran too far from the tree when a large rock found its way on his foot and the man turned boy plunged to the ground. His knees hurting from the impact, he quickly got up and continued. Tom's voice could still be heard following him and coming nearer and nearer. Looking over his shoulder to see if Tom was there, he hardly noticed a large branch falling and attempted to evade it; it hit his arm, but it was better than his head.
Wiz was worried more things would try to impede his escape, but then he saw the Tower, looking green through the tree-sown distance. With his spirits lifted, he made for it. However, the more he ran towards it the more it seemed to shift towards the left until it eventually vanished from sight.
Wiz panicked. What would he do now? There was no salvation. And yet he couldn't give up. There was only one thing left to do... Go to a completely different direction. Doing so, but avoiding going closer to Tom's voice he eventually came to a fast and wide river.
“Brick!” he'd heard no running water and been led to a trap. If he walked into the river, he'd be swept away, while jumping didn't seem like an option either.
“Give up already. You know I'll get you in the end!” Tom's voice came from behind.
He couldn't stall there. He had to make a choice. And he did. He took a couple of steps back and then jumped as far as he could. He closed his eyes and just pictured himself landing on the other side, hoping it could really happen. His feet did not touch the ground... Instead he felt his belly crushing on a tree's branch. Not only had he passed over the river, but he'd also gotten to the height of the trees' branches, several metres away from the riverside.
“What the brick?” he muttered to himself just before his descent towards the ground began.
The fall hurt more than the one from the tower previously that day.It took him a moment to get up again.
“Aha! I found you!” Tom spoke from the other side of the river.
Shadow was devastated. He had done all this for naught. Tom had gotten to him after all...
“Hey, how did you get there? How'd you do that?”
It was then that the magician realised Tom had stopped before the river, not daring to cross. He was looking at the water with a frightened expression. He was safe! Wiz smiled mockingly to Tom, bowed to him and calling “My master” in mock respect, he turned his back on his pursuer.
“Come back! Don't leave! You can't leave! We had a deal! Curses! I'll find you Dealbreaker! I'll find you and punish you for this!”
Soon afterwards he left Tom and his shouting behind and came to a clearing and in the centre of it found a gravestone. He curiously approached it, but then heard a new voice.
“Erm. Excuse me. Can you help me please?”
Wiz tried to locate the source of the voice, but he failed, “Where are you?”
“Over here! By the tall tree. Yes, I know confusing place. Now won't you help poor Freithen find his way back to Geidrich Castle? I'm not sure how long I've been lost for”.
Ardon searched around the taller trees for the speaking man and eventually found him. A high-pitched scream escaped his mouth at the sight of the semi-transparent skeleton and he started to run away. However, he miscalculated the position of the trees around him and bumped into one, knocking himself out.
~~~***---***~~~
Wiz woke up with a headache. His body was perfectly normal at the appropriate size and shape. A few trees surrounded him, but no forest. It took him a moment to remember why he wasn't at Geidrich Castle. So this all hadn't just been a dream? Before he could give the matter any more thought, he noticed he was lying on something irregularly shaped. He got up and examined the object. It was a skeleton, the very same one he'd seen in his dream-but-not-dream. Freithen was his name? The skeleton looked as if it had been there, lying with its arms wrapped around a crudely made gravestone, for a very long time. How had this poor soul died?
His focus shifted to the grave, which featured an insription of ill-carven letters:
Here lies Dank, forever loyal to the dream
Even when everyone abandoned us
Giving his life for Geidrich's riches
Wiz's sympathy for Freithen and the man buried underneath him lessened significantly at the discovery that they died in their foolish attempt to seize mostly non-existent riches they did not deserve and never could have gotten. Even so, he felt bad for Freithen who'd been left unburied for so long. To fix that, he unceremoniously lifted a big mass of soil and placed it out of his way. He carefully placed Freithen's skeleton inide and replaced the soil above him. Finally, he added a few words to Dank's stone: “And Freithen, loyal to his friend and their foolishness”.
After that, he walked out of the circle of trees and made for the castle from which he'd found himself a distance away. However, having left behind the tower's old siegers, he was now noticed by the new ones. As he approached his home -the only home he had left-, he was eventually surrounded by Lynia and her people.
“Hello again. Out for a walk, are we?” Lynia said.
Wiz simply gave her a morose look.
“Listen pal. This castle and everything in it belongs to me. I'm going to get inside and take the treasure for myself, whatever happens. And if anything or anyone gets in my way... I'll destroy them! Get it, pal?”
“Are you finished?” Wiz started in an annoyed tone. “As Geidrich's last and only apprentice, I am the rightful owner of this castle and if you think for a moment you can get through the enchantments placed on the castle to get whatever you imagine exists inside then your idiocy is not my problem!”
“If we can't get through on our own, we'll make you get us in!”
“Ha! I don't think so”.
With that, Wiz brought his hands forth and the potential thieves around him were pushed to the ground. He walked over them and headed for the castle before they could catch up with him again.
“The bastard!” Lynia exclaimed as she got up, “He will pay for this”, and a few more curses followed.
“Maybe we should just leave”, one of her guild members spoke.
“No! I did not survive Knife's crew and escaped the Forbidden Valley just to fail here. We've never cowered before a challenge in the past and we shan't do so now”.
“But this guy doesn't seem safe. He said he's Geidrich's apprentice”, the same woman spoke.
“I don't care what he is! We've dealt with not safe before, we will do so again! We will see this through, as always. Now, come on! There's a castle to get inside of”.
~~~***---***~~~
The Sidhe is one of the races inhabiting the strange world ofFaeri'ë. There is a lot that can be said about 'Faeri'ë, but if we tried to understand it as the sum of all these things we'd delude ourselves. 'Faeri'ë cannot be approached with reason or our conscious, for it is irrational and a domain of the subconscious. Perhaps we can find the best way to describe 'Faeri'ë in the words, “In the deep of the dense forest and in an abandonded dark tower; in a remote beach and in the turmoiled waters of the open sea; over the rainbow and under the hill; across the waterfall and down the river; through my backyard and between two cypress trees; that's where you'll find 'Faeri'ë, land of all true magic and strange wonders. As you enter, be prepared to leave sanity and reason behind. Only Imagination, a Pure Heart and a Strong Will will get you out alive”.
The Sidhe, also called fairies by many and sometimes fair goblins, do not come in certain shapes or sizes, each of them being unique -a trait which they share with their more misshapen neighbours, the goblins- but their appearance is most commonly agreeable to the eye, if a little bizarre. They typically live in mounds dug in the ground and can be more or less adept to f'aeri'ë magic. Much like the world they live in, their exterior charm and agreeable act can be deceiving, as they often operate with ill intentions. Throughout the history of human and Sidhe interaction, which this book explores,Sidhe are known to have repeatedly caused mayhem in our world. Many magicians who took fairy apprentices came to regret it later. If encountered a Sidhe, they will most often seek to make a deal with you, which the Sidhe respect more than any human or Sidhe-made law. Indeed one must be careful in their interactions with fairies, as their concept of a deal can vary a lot and often has magical significance. Another recurrent element in Sidhe behaviour is the tendency to steal away people, especially young women, to add to their courts or have them as their spouses. It is also important to note that knowing a Sidhe's true name can give one power over them, so fairies will guard it as best they can. Fairies can live a very long time. They are not to be confused with elves or pixies.
Although many fairies may be of a crude nature as seen by the fact of mounds being their preferred home, the long interchange with the people of our world has led several Sidhe of a higher status to assume a more polished gentleman-like image.
Wiz closed theHistory of the Sidhe and considered what he had just read. Had he been to Faerië? It sure looked like that. And Tom certainly fit the description of a Sidhe. So, a good question was how he'd gotten to Faerië. Or rather, why. Looking at the several stories of Sidhe and human exchanges of the past and of journeys into Faerië did not help him much. Each case was very different to the others and he wasn't sure about their accuracy anyway. Eventually, he gave up trying. If he ended up there again, he'd figure things out then. Besides, the books did warn him that reason wouldn't help him. Imagination would, though.
Instead, he grabbed his hat and a book of enchantments, looked for spells and then muttered them to weave magic into the pointy hat. Thusly, the time passed and the books of reference increased, the complexity of spells cast raised and yet little change came unto the hat, as many of the spells weren't really working well or at all. Many wizards and witches, sorcerers and sorceresses had put their magical thoughts on paper, but only a little part of the bibliography was really worth it.
Keeping himself busy, Wiz did not notice as the day went by. But at some point during the afternoon he was interrupted by a distraction. The sound of voices came from outside through the walls. Grumbling to himself, the wizard made his way to a window and opened it to stick his head out of it. The same people who had previously been trying to knock down the gate were now climbing the castle's walls. Come to think of it the sound of the ram had stopped a while now.
“Give it up! You're not going to get in that way. In fact, you can't get in any way!” Wiz yelled irritably at them. “Why won't you leave this castle and me to our peace?”
Some of the 'besiegers' looked at him, but they did not reply, perhaps because they were concentrating or because they had nothing to say. They just continued on their ascent.
“Well, I warned you. When this castle's magic activates, it won't be my fault”, he shouted again, putting his head back in.
Those fools are going to get themselves killed at this point, he thought grimly. Even so, it'd be by their own choice. He had no business trying to stop them. He started to close the window, but as the shutters came close to each other something small, black and blurred in incredible speed swooped in through the tight opening. Surprised, Wiz brought the shutters together with a bit too much force and he was afraid the glass might break for a moment. Reassured when it didn't, he turned around to face the intruder. He found himself under a very intense stare.
“Ha? A black cat? Now, what are you doing here? Or rather what kind of magic did you use to get in here?”
The cat just stared without blinking. It stared with its bright yellow eyes. Yellow eyes... But that was normal for black cats, so there was no reason for him to be feeling so uneasy about it.
“I don't know what you came here to do, cat, but this place belongs to me now. I don't require any good luck and I don't care for the bad kind either. So, I don't see any reason for you to be staying”.
The cat stared.
“I have no interest in having a familiar. You may go”.
Stare.
Wiz responded by staring back this time. Their eyes locked to each other in a battle of wills. The wizard tried to will the animal away, but it wouldn't budge. He was getting annoyed by this point. Did the cat come here with the express purpose of staring him down? Didn't it have anything else to do? The staring contest continued on for a good few minutes. Until...
“Fine! You can stay. As long as you take care of your own needs, don't make a mess and don't cause trouble, you can stay”, Wiz gave in, blinking.
At the sound of that, the cat took her eyes off him and began to lick her front left paw.
“You wretched, blackmailing, sneaky, little beast”, Wiz grumbled. “But what do I care anyway? It's a big castle and cat or no cat, it's all the same to me”.
He looked at the books he had been reading previously. He was no longer in the mood for reading. He made for the door, but then heard the people's voices again. In fact, they were screaming.
“Must be the magic activated”, Wiz monologued or perhaps he was explaining to the cat. “Heh. Serves them right for their foolishness. Though I wonder if someone might break their bones and die... What do I care, though? I did warn them”.
The black cat's new stare spoke volumes about her opinion on the matter.
“What? You want me to save those fools?”
Unblinking, judging stare.
“Oh, leave me be! I already cast a spell to cushion their fall, so there's no need to worry... or stare at me like that”.
The cat stared at him judgingly for another moment as if to say, “Well, you said you didn't care” and then went back to meticulously licking her legs.
“You're a riot, you know?” the young man said irritably, finally walking out of the room.
He wandered around the castle for a while, letting dark thoughts take over him again. So they would on any resting moment. Yet, Wiz couldn't brood to his heart's desire, as soon he realised he was being followed.
“Cat, are you always going to be such a nuisance?” Wiz spoke to the feline silently walking behind him. The cat looked at him innocently, turning her head at an angle.
“You're a pain in the brick”.
Wiz continued his way through the castle's hallways, always sensing the cat's presence near him. Eventually, he wound up at a spacious room filled with human-sized wooden mannequin dolls laid around it. He couldn't believe they were still there, much in the same stances and positions as when he'd last seen them...
Wiz fell on his back. Tired, he remained like that panting for some time.
“Try again”, Geidrich told him.
Wiz slowly got up. His legs standing some distance apart and his waist lowered, as if he was playing basketball, Wiz faced the mannequins again. Although seemingly harmless at the moment, when they were frozen, Wiz knew they did their creepy look justice. Then again, they might have looked creepy only because he knew what they were capable of.
Once he had assumed said stance, one of the minimalistic, articulated constructs began to make its way towards him with its awkward steps. There was something unnatural, eerie about the way these things moved.It raised its arm and slashed through the air trying to hit him. Wiz jumped back, but then another wooden hand slapped the back of his head. Turning around, Wiz kicked the other mannequin away and telekinetically pushed the first one. Two more dolls approached him in their awkward way while the first two began to recover. Two short walls materialised on Wiz's two sides blocking his opponents' way. Then, his walls moved towards the actual walls, trapping the mannequins between them.
More enemies came, now moving faster. Wiz dodged their attacks, pushed and kicked, but it was not enough. A sword and a shield materialised in his hands. He was proud in that sword and shield. It had taken him time desigining their details and then more time to figure out how to make those details happen with magic. But now he could create them from scratch.He was no novice anymore. With his shield he blocked incoming attacks and with his sword he returned them. Several wooden arms and some legs received new marks in the process.However, the mannequins quickly caught up. Several arms wrapped around the shield and pulled at it.Their combined force overcame that of Wiz's and the shield escaped his grip.Meanwhile, his sword was violently attacked by many other arms until it had flown away from his fingers, too.
Undefended, Wiz caused a shock wave to travel through the air, pushing all the mannequins away. That gave him some time to think of a better way to fend for himself. The mannequins were returning and they would attack with menace.A circle of spikes, inclined to point outwards, appeared around him, impeding the dolls' advance. The constructs started attacking the spikes with menace and Wiz's experience told him they would eventually break them.Still, he had some time to think over his strategy. Conjuring fire would be an easy way to defeat them, but he wasn't supposed to destroy the dolls fully.
“You may defend yourself quite well, Wiz, but that will not put an end to the fight. You need to go to the offensive. Creative magic is great, but used alone it will never win a serious fight. You must learn to master destructive magic as well”.
“But isn't that harmful magic?” Wiz asked, anxious as he watched the mannequins damage his defense little by little.
“It can be. But it doesn't have to be. Destruction may be a heavy word, but it's not evil by itself. After all it's necessary in the process of change. Creation, destruction and creation anew. If you learn to control destruction it can become a tool to serve creation. Much like creation can serve destruction. Offense sometimes is necessary for defense. It is necessary to protect the powerless; to protect those you love”.
Right. If he could cause some minor damage, he could immobilise the enemy. One of the mannequins broke through. Wiz projected its will upon it and the doll... exploded. As soon as that had happened, the other constructs froze in their positions. Wiz made the spikes disappear and he looked at the parts of the blown up doll, scattered throughout the room, then at his master, standing in a corner of the room.
“If this was a real battle, you would have just killed someone”, Geidrich said.
Wiz looked down.
“Don't be so downcast.This was not a real battle. But if you ever get into one, you must learn to control your offensive”.
“But that's hard. It's just too wild. Can't I just stick with creation magic?”
“Creation magic is easy for you, yes.That's natural. It's your greatest talent. And it can be very useful. But if you limit yourself, you'll be an incomplete wizard with an incomplete perspective and incomplete skills. You can't become a great wizard -let alone an enchanter- by studying just one field of magic.If you don't understand the others, in the end you won't even understand the one you specialise in.If you don't master the others, you won't even be able to master your full potential at the one field. Anything important you try will fail, because of that. Your potential is of a more broad nature, so do it justice”.
Geidrich sure liked to make speeches, Wiz thought. He'd heard many of them during his apprenticeship. This particular one had been one of the last ones. Soon afterwards they'd been invited to the Magical Convention. And the day of that convention everything had changed. Geidrich had died. Murdered. And he'd been left alone. Or rather he had imposed being alone to himself. And it was perhaps the greatest mistake of his life. His village, his parents, Ellwen. Three years he could have been with them gone to waste. And now of those only Ellwen was left. And Wiz didn't know how he could face her. At the moment he couldn't meet her. It'd be impossible. Ellwen was a light in his life. An absolute delight. But Wiz couldn't feel happy now. He couldn't feel delight. He couldn't see Ellwen. He didn't desire to see her. He didn't deserve to see her. In his depression, he and she just couldn't exist near each other.
Tears were streaming down his cheeks when he faced the mannequins again. He examined the mannequins, their majority being in positions of trying to get through an invisble circular barrier. Wiz went and stood in the midst of them. The cat watched from the doorway. Wiz focused. He closed his eyes and opened his eyes. His mind explored the space around him. He felt the vibrations on the floor as the mannequins all started to move together. He felt the disturbance of the air as their arms and legs moved through it. He felt the wood of the mannequins themselves moving. His mind concentrated on the dolls. He felt their shape and their size, he felt their texture, he felt their nature. He came to understand their structure... and then dissolved it.
He opened his eyes. Every single mannequin collapsed on the floor, unable to balance missing their right feet. Their right feet had been destroyed. The mannequins were immobilised, but not destroyed. Geidrich's final lesson had been learnt. In the time that had passed since, Wiz had grown and so had his magic. But he was not ready, yet. That's why he was there. He'd complete his training. He would not be an incomplete wizard anymore. He wouldn't fail. He'd be an enchanter...
~~~***---***~~~
Wiz was standing in his bedroom, looking intensely at the oil painting of the eleven enchanters. He could not stop staring at it, examining its details, searching for signs of what the story behind it was; searching for a message that would say, “Don't worry, Wiz. I can explain it all”. He found nothing. The black cat curiously watched the wizard's pointless attempt until he gave up, exhausted by all that had happened that day. He finally lay to bed, as his intention had originally been when he entered the room. However, he soon found himself with company when the resident cat, climbed up with him and nestled up beside him.
“There's a lot of space on this bed. You don't have to be on me”, Wiz said, but the cat didn't move. Getting sleepy and feeling the creature's reassuring warmth, he continued, “Fine. I guess it's not that bad anyway”. He was soon fast asleep. 
A shovel pierced through the soft soil, digging deep inside. Everything was the shovel. As it moved upwards to remove the portion of soil it collected, it was the movement of everything. The weight of the whole world lay on that shovel, now propelling the piece of earth away. It fell back down heavily, weighed by the world. Right now, shovelling was the most important thing in the world. Indeed what else could there be that was as important? Or at all significant in any way? No. Shovelling was all that mattered. Digging that hole was his sole purpose. The shovel continued up and down, up and down, in and out, through and away. There was nothing that could stop him. For he was doing the most important thing in the world... digging that hole. Digging it with that shovel; the most important shovel in the world. For it was him and the world itself.
The shovel pierced through the soft soil, digging deep inside. Another shovelful of earth removed. The hole now looked big enough. He was finished.He had dug the hole. The man walked out of the hole. Near the hole something else lay. And there was great importance in it. For it would go in the hole. For, indeed, that was what made the hole so important. The world itself had collapsed and gone down on that body. On that body and the shovel that dug its grave. The body of an unidentified person was moved into the hole and the balance of the entire world was depended on it. For the world had collapsed upon that person's death. The world had collapsed, it was shattered and torn, its shards lay before him tragically. The world had collapsed and it was his responsibility to pick up the pieces. And do what he could with them. So, the balance of everything depended on it. On the successful placement of that person into the hole. That person and all the others. The person and the others who were the world. The broken tragic world.
The person was in the hole and the shovel now rose again, as heavy as ever, carrying with it the weight of dozens of bodies. The grains of soil fell on top of the body with purpose. They knew their place in the world. Their task was of the utmost importance. They'd make a blanket for those resting. They would make the final blanket. One glance to the side; one diversion from the most important task and the sight was ghastly. A series of human-sized brown patches in the ground. More than he could count, but he already knew the number. That most important number. The number that described the fall of the world. The number of fallen. The number of people he'd buried. A burial that was most important. For the world had been greatly wronged. And it would never again be right. Never... But it was simply impossible not to do this slightest step towards rightness. The only step that could be made. Therefore, the most important step. The world had been wronged. It had been marred. A village had been destroyed. Its people killed. A man orphaned. And that man was left alone with the bodies... and their graves he made.
Looking back at the last grave, he saw it. The balance was destroyed. He couldn't restore it. He would suffer. A hand, a single scorched, black, ghastly hand was creeping out of the grave. Soon, it was joined by another and together they pulled. The whole body, burnt to an unrecognisable crisped figure,rose moving in a slow sickening manner. An arm extended itself, shaking violently and a marred finger pointed accusingly, shooting him down with a world's load of guilt. The man fell down unable to react except for shivering in fear, guilt and disgust. His stomach was in turmoil as he felt about to vomit.
The body walked towards him in slow and sickening steps. More bodies emerged from the open grave behind it. They were all horrible. The first -or last- body opened its mouth as if to say something, but its lower jaw fell just hanging from what little burnt flesh remained to attach it to the head. Seeing deep within the body's throat, the man gagged. He closed his eyes, not bearing the sight anymore and curled up into a ball. He could still hear the steps approaching. The slightest touch of two fingers -two unbearable fingers- brushed over his arm; brushed his neck; brushed his cheek. He shuddered at the eerie sensation. Then, the hand settled on his face, all five fingers, the whole palm touched it,the man feeling its ghastly texture all over his face. He tried to move away, but another hand seemed to have a firm grip of his upper arm. And then more hands started feeling him up, searching his body, disgustingly touching him. The torture went on and on until every bit of him was being covered by the sickly bodies. Death was upon him. If they didn't kill him, he'd die out of revulsion.
Then, all of a sudden, they were all gone. He lay on the ground trembling for some more time. Then, he heard footsteps coming towards him from the other direction. For a moment,he was terrified the bodies were returning, but then he realised they were not the slow sickly steps of the burnt bodies. Wiz opened his eyes and looked at the person that was coming. It was the girl. That girl, that eccentric young lady who'd called him Ardon before anybody else did. She looked alive and well, even though Wiz knew she'd died. She was walking towards him with an anxious expression. She lifted an arm, pointing towards him as if to ask help. But as she did, her skin began to change. It was turning brown, then black. It was becoming crisped, burnt. Before his very eyes the girl became a burnt corpse. It was the face that turned last and Wiz watched in agony as her eyes gazed in fear before being consumed by the desolation of fire.
At the sight of this horror, Wiz finally jumped out of his bed, only to leave his body behind. Like last night, he'd turned into an incorporeal form. He considered this for a moment. He found this form was no useful to him at the moment, but he didn't know how to go back. Preferably, he'd fall asleep again, but he feared this might be Faerië beckoning him again. He decided he'd do his best not to fall into that place again. He concentrated on the idea of a body, tried to make one for himself. There was a tingling sensation and then he noticed a phasmatical arm in front of him. He tested it and it moved at his will. The arm was attached to the rest of his phasmatical body. It was better than nothing, but not what he quite wanted.
Through the air he tried to float his way back to his physical body, but controlling this light form was hard. He flew over the bed and then with a second attempt crashed on the floor. At least, he didn't go through it... But from the floor, he noticed something odd. There was a breeze coming from under the bed. Curious. In the night's darkness, the space below the bed was pitch black. He couldn't make anything of it just by looking. He started crawling his way towards it, applying a lot of effort in staying grounded, as this form had a tendency to flying. His body started going under the bed and it remained dark. The breeze got stronger and Wiz found nothing around him with any of his senses. Soon, his whole phasmatical body was under the bed. Darkness all around him. It was only darkness now, everywhere he looked. The two exits on the sides of the bed had disappeared. He was trapped in infinite darkness. Then he started falling.
He fell and fell and fell and he spun and spun and spun. The blackness around him remained the same, but he was falling for some time. It was not apparent to him if there'd be an end or if he was to fall eternally. It was rather annoying actually. Then, with all the suddeness there can be in falling for who knows how long and then stopping, there was ground.
Along with the ground came surroundings, too. His body hurt from the crash, but he lifted his head to look around.
“Oh no”, he said with a young voice.
He was back in the Forest. And as evidenced by his voice, he was again a child. That was unfortunate.
“Argh! Why does this have to happen to me?” Wiz complained.
This time there wasn't even a Tower at his starting point. He was in the middle of nowhere. So, he had no idea how to return. A few butterfly-like creatures flew nearby, possibly attracted by the noise. They approached and Wiz found that their colourful wings were attached to little humanoid bodies, themselves colourful. They had big black beady eyes and long antennae on their head. Along with their wings and legs there were also two pairs of arms, giving them an even more insect-like look. In squeaky voices, they spoke words he did not understand. However, when they got to his face they grabbed what they could and pulled as hard as their little bodies allowed. It looked like all they intended was to irritate him and they succeeded at that. Wiz waved his hand close to his face and they dispersed, shaking little fists.
Wiz started walking to avoid the butterfly-creatures' return. Of course, he didn't know where he was going, but he walked with determination and confidence nonetheless. He thought if he didn't he might be targeted by something or someone. The melody he remembered from yesterday was still playing in the distance, inviting Wiz to relax and enjoy himself. To lie down and feel the nature's hug. He resisted. He couldn't afford to be sidetracked or a repetition of last nights' adventure might happen. He continued to walk.
Yet, Wiz was getting sleepy. There was something heavy in the air and as he breathed in and out it left him more and more sleepy. The music was still tingling his ears. It was very nice. Wiz's tense muscles relaxed. He felt calmer. The forest seemed to be emanating a reassuring warmth. The place was beautiful. He'd like to stop for a moment and enjoy all the scenery. But no... he had to walk. He couldn't stop. But why was he walking again? He couldn't remember. Was it important? Probably not. The trees around him and watching them were certainly more important. His steps stopped. He looked around him, taking it all in. He smelled the strange, but pleasant odours his surroundings had to offer. It was very pleasurable indeed. The ground was beckoning to him. He could lie down and for a moment be one with nature. The forest was alive. He'd be alive with it. He lied down. He slept.
And a most magical sleep that was. For the first time in some time, he slept calmly. A faint smile was drawn on his face. He wanted that sleep to last forever. And it might have. It was, after all, magical. No dreams came to him as he slept. There was just this warm pleasant sensation. It felt like it lasted a long time. But then a voice came through oblivion, calling him to return to wakefulness. Wiz tried to ignore it, but like a claw gripping him in the depths of the sea, he was pulled out of his sleep.
“Hum. Ham-hum. Oh, you're awake”, the voice said as consciousness returned to Wiz. “Are you aware that you are being tied by those roots?”
“What roots?” Wiz was confused. Then, he saw the gnarly, slowly twisting and extending roots, going round his arms and legs, trapping him, “When did that happen?”
“Hum. When you you were sleeping, I presume. Ham”, the same voice spoke while the scent of tobacco permeated the air above him.
Wiz searched for the source of both and soon found a tall thin man staring at him. He had white hair and a beard that looked like a mane. Silver spectacles resided upon his nose.Long slender fingers were holding some sort of pipe that had three ends. At that moment, the man blew a ring of white smoke and said quietly “Hum”.
Forgetting about the man and focusing on the roots tightening their grip with every second, Wiz tried to conjure flames. But the flames wouldn't come. In fact, any magic he tried to save himself didn't work. Trying to pull his limbs free failed as well. That wasn't very good. A puff of blue smoke flew over him and he remembered the man.
“Hey, can you help me?” Ardon called out.
“Hmmmm? Mhh. Hmmm. Help you? Hum. Yes, I can help you. Ham-hum”, the man inhaled some smoke from his pipe and did nothing.
Starting to see what kind of person he was dealing with and feeling the wood pressing his skin, Wiz was getting panicked, “Well, will you?”
“Hem? Ho-hem? Do what?”
“Help me escape these roots of death!” Wiz yelled with aggravation.
“Hmmm. Mhhh-hmm. But why would I do that?” he released a ring of green smoke and then a smaller yellow one through the first.
“Because otherwise I'll die!”
“Hum? My condolenses, then. Ham-hum”.
Even in his current state of mortal danger, Wiz couldn't ignore the irritation the hum and hams were causing him, let alone the man's unhelpfulness. The rings and puffs of smoke arriving every now and then didn't help either. In fact, he very much hated them.
“Look. You don't seem to be busy, so while you're here, why don't you give me a hand?”
“I am smoking my pipe. Ham-hum”.
That was it. Wiz couldn't take it any longer. He might die for it, but he could at least spend his final moments wishing that pipe to break. Indeed he stared at it with the most hateful intentions, as if staring and imagining alone would be enough for it to actually break.
The man looked intimidated, “Hmmm. Mhhh. Hmmm. What are you doing?”
“I'm trying to destroy that stupid pipe”.
The man stepped back worried. It was then that four of the butterfly-like creatures, which Wiz presumed were pixies, made their apperance. Two of them started pulling the man's mustache hairs while the others were more interested in the pipe. They sniffed the smoke and chuckled as if the other had just told a very good joke. They got a hold of the pipe's one end and with a little effort, they managed to snap it off to Wiz's gratification. The man was aghast. He waved the pixies away and pleaded with Wiz, “Fine, fine! I'll help you. Hmmm. Just stop this! Ham-hum. Yes, stop”.
Surprised and pleased with how things were turning out better than if he'd planned them out, Wiz simply said “Roots”. The man approached, wary of the pixies, and blew some purple smoke on the roots, upon which they immediately started pulling away and retreating into the ground. Wiz sighed in relief.
“Now, can you show me a way out of here and into my world?” the magician boy asked, getting up.
“Heeee? Now, you want a way out, too?”
Wiz smiled sardonically as he glanced at the pipe, then at the pixies still flying over the man's head. Said man, realising the meaning of this, frowned.
“Huuum. You're a load of trouble, you. Ham! Hum!” he clasped Wiz by the shoulders and pushed him through the trees for a few steps. As he did that, an arch appeared on the horizon and with every step it seemed to zoom closer until it was right in front of them. “There! Hmmm. Go through that you bully and don't come back. Mhh. Hmm”.
“Well, thank you”, Wiz expressed his gratitude as he passed through the ancient-looking, rune-inscribed arch.
There was a feeling of disorientation as his surroundings completely changed into the entrance hall of Geidrich Castle and his body returned to its proper dimensions. Behind him he heard the sound of the gates opening, as if he had just pushed through them. That was odd. Odder still was the fact that the cat was there gazing at him, as if she'd been anticipating his return through the gateway for some time. Spooky creatures cats were. Having ascertained his return, the feline turned around and ran off somewhere. Ardon did not care much to find out were.
The wizard made for the bedroom instead. It wasn't that he wanted to go back to bed; the sun had already risen and he had plans for the day. He just wanted to make sure of something. He arrived there shortly and he was not surprised by what he saw -0r rather didn't see. That was peculiar magic indeed. He left his body in his bedroom -or the library- when he entered Faerië, but when he returned in different locations, his body was there, too. Not back to where he left it sleeping. Most peculiar. He'd have to study this kind of magic more. Especially if he was to keep having these trips.
With slow steps Wiz walked out of the room only to bump into the cat again. She had something in her mouth that looked like a piece of parchment. Was it from the library? Why had the cat brought it here? The small creature placed it at his feet, as if to encourage him to take it.
“What's the meaning of this?” the magician asked, but of course he didn't get an answer -only some staring. The man sighed and picked the piece of parchment up. The blood stains on it got his attention instantly. It wasn't just a few spots of blood. It looked like someone had spilled a lot of blood near the piece of parchment. Wiz's attention shifted to what had been written on the parchment:
Dear Mirian,
I'm sorry. I have failed you. I'm such a failure. I'm an idiot.Revenge. I wanted revenge.I was blinded by my hatred. All I could think of was killing this man. For your sake. I loved you. I never really admitted to it, but it's true. And that man. That Man! I couldn't let him go. I went after him. Will you forgive me? Will you forgive me for being so foolish? I wanted to kill him, but how could I when not even all of us together could defeat him. But I wasn't thinking. Delros tried to warn me, but I wouldn't listen. I knew there was little chance I could find him, but with a fool's hope I gave chase. And by a cruel twist of fate, I actually found him. Soon, I will be dead. No surprise in that. The only reason I'm still alive is that he knows that this slow death is the greatest torture for me. Having to accept my failure. My idiocy. Knowing that I disappointed you after all. The pain is unbearable. After all that happened, I know that what you want for me is to live, but I failed. I couldn't handle it. When he killed you, I went mad. I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Forgive me! Forgive me, Mirian! I did not want this to end like this!
The letter was hard to read. Additionally to the blood, there were also what looked like water stains -from tears possibly. However, someone seemed to have removed the blood from where it formerly obscured parts of the message. Finally, Wiz's eyes reached the part where the ink stopped. The writer must have been desparate when finishing the letter for under that the words “My dear Mirian, your Rewan” had been shakily written with blood.
What was this? What was the meaning of this? Why was that letter -a letter to someone who apprently was already dead when it was written- in Geidrich's castle? Why had the cat brought it to him? Why was there a faint remnant of Geidrich's aura, of his sorrow lingering on that piece of parchment?
“Why?” Wiz asked the cat, the volume of his voice slightly raised. “What does this mean?”
The black cat stared into his eyes in a way that seemed to speak, “Follow me!” Then, the feline turned around and started running down the hallway. Where was she going? What was her purpose? How did she even know her way in the castle? Ardon didn't know, but he followed anyway. The cat did not go very far. She stopped by the door of what must have been a bedroom, judging by its proximity to the other bedrooms. Wiz did not immediately try to get in. This was another room which he had no permission to enter when he was younger. In fact this whole are had been restricted back then. What was Geidrich hiding in there? What had he failed to trust with Wiz?
The door took some convincing, but eventually it obeyed and opened. Entering the room, it was like he entered an entirely different world. It was just so... blue. The wallpapers and carpet were different shades of blue, several objects also were of the same colour scheme. The very light coming through the windows seemed to be coloured blue. The ceiling, however, was painted to look like the night sky. Countless stars, small and big, bright and dim had been drawn and they really almost seemed to be glowing.
Brightest of them all, Wiz recognised Elomar. Even in an illustration, it stood out to him, almost out of intuition. It was the star after which he'd named Ellwen Elemiere. When they were apart, Elomar linked them, the star to which they could both look in the night. Once long ago, it had shone upon Figroth Felanor and Nailelin and it was the star of lovers ever since. A star said to hold its origins in Imagination, revered by the Figorani. It was the star to which he'd likened his beloved. Tears came to his eyes.
Looking at the rest of the room again, the signs that there'd been magic in the room were many and obvious. A bed was standing on four furry legs of a creature he did not recognise. The curtains on the windows blossomed with blue flowers, though admittedly they were in the process of wilting. A lot of furniture that would typically be made of wood was built of a crystal that resembled sapphires. There were pens on a desk growing exotic feathers at their tips, while the inkwells nearby held ink that gradually changed colours. Finally, there was a very life-like woman's bust in a corner of the room, which Wiz was sure must have used magic in the making. The blue-haired, blue-eyed head smiled peacefully at him while he examined it. This looked exactly like the blue-haired woman on the painting in Geidrich's bedroom. So, did this room belong to a member of the council once upon a time? A transfigurator perhaps.
“Well, hello there! You must be Wiz Ardon!” the bust spoke with an unexpected accent, similar to one that you might find in Esindum.
“I guess I should have expected this would happen”, Wiz said resignedly. “That is indeed me. And who might you be?”
“You may call me Bella. Though I suppose I'm more like the traces of magic she's left behind in here”.
“Bella the Blue, mayhap?” Ardon asked with another glance at the room's blueness.
“Affirmative. I'm the Enchanter Council's transfigurator”.
“And might I ask what you're doing here? Did Geidrich bring you in?”
“Oh no! Bella made me”, the statue explained.
“But how did you end up here?”
“I was always here. Never seen outside this room”.
“You mean Bella the Blue used to live here?”
“Oh yes. This is the Council's base of operations after all”.
“But this is Geidrich's castle isn't it?”
“Geidrich's? No, I don't think so. This is Agres Castle. It's belonged to Mirian Agres and her family for centuries... Though I guess Geidrich seems to be the only one living here nowadays after everything that happened. And, well, you... his apprentice”.
What? Wiz thought. All this time, everyone has referred to it as the Geidrich Castle. What's this about Agres Castle? What was Geidrich hiding from him?
“So, you mean this castle belonged to Mirian the White before?” he remembered Ellwen mentioning her during the Convention -and it must be the same person mentioned in the letter the cat had found.
“Affirmative”.
“And what happened to her? And the rest of the Council?”
“Well, Tetraprosopous betrayed us and then... I don't quite remembered what happened, but I think Mirian was killed and everyone went on their own ways. It was really dreadful. And yet I can't quite remember the details...”, the bust looked sad.
Yes, that was right. Ellwen had said something of the sort back then. And then Rewan had went after Tetraprosopous and was killed, too. What had happened to the rest of the members, though? Wiz knew that Geidrich, Mardolf and Azira had lived; Galor and the elf, too. Why had they disbanded? And why had Geidrich never told him about all of this?
“Why did everyone leave, though? Surely, people still needed your help”.
“Well, many were injured I believe. By the time, they were better the rest, to whose conscience the matter weighed heavily, had dispersed. Geidrich told me so. He said that very few attended Mirian's funeral”.
Her funeral... suddenly a thought occurred to Wiz, “Where was Mirian buried?”
“Why just outside the castle. In the back garden”.
“I was there just a couple of days ago and I saw no grave other than Geidrich's”, Wiz argued though an unpleasant uncertainty was beginning to clasp around his heart.
“Do you think that the greatest magical group of the last century would be short of a few perception filtre and missdirection spells?”
Wiz did not speak any further. He just turned and left. He didn't even notice if the statue said anything more. He simply had to know for himself. How much his master had hidden from him.How much Geidrich had broken his trust.
“You're a freak, you know!”
“What?”
“Yeah, you're a freak! Everyone knows that Geidrich rejects anyone who applies to be his apprentice. If he accepted you, then it must be because you're a freak and he pitied you!”
“After all who would want to apprentice under a wizard. Only a freak! My mom says one should never meddle with dark magics like wizards do”.
“It's not dark magic!”
“We didn't ask you, you freak!”
“Yeah freak, shut your mouth!”
“Freak”
“Freak!”
“Monster!”
“Demon!”
“Shut it! All of you!”
Then, the first punch came.
Geidrich was pressing an icecube enveloping washcloth on his face to treat his bruises. Geidrich looked genuinely worried for him, but at the same time his face grew stern.
“If these boys were giving you trouble all this time you should have told me. We could have prevented this and more if you'd done so. Why did you keep it from me, Wiz?”
The boy just looked away with a sulky expression, avoiding Geidrich's eyes. Geidrich sighed.
“You know the two of us are alone now. Your parents and friends are far away and I never had anyone here to begin with. The two of us must have each other's backs. We're master and apprentice. We should help and support each other. If you're keeping secrets from me, I can't help you. I don't want you to distance yourself from me. I need you to trust me. Like I trust you!”
The boy didn't speak. Instead he seemed to sulk even more. Geidrich repeated his sigh.
“Concerning the problem at hand, though, perhaps we could move out of here. Some place isolated where you can train all you want without troubling anyone or being troubled yourself. I hoped to let you socialise normally with other people of your age, but if people aren't ready to accept wizards, yet, we can't do otherwise, I'm afraid”.
This time the boy looked back at Geidrich, “I thought the King won't let you leave”.
“Ah, he won't let me leave the country, yes, but I can persuade him to let me leave the capital for most of the year. And my castle is in just the right place. Surrounded by mountains and within the borders”.
“You have a castle?”
“Of course I do! I'm a proper wizard after all!” this time Geidrich smiled kindly. “And I think you're going to like it, too”.
The boy smiled, too.
“So this is it, Wiz! Our new home! It might be a little dusty -I haven't been here for some time- but I'm sure you'll find it hospitable. So... two wizards; one castle: it's all ours. We can live here like magicians are supposed to do. So, let's have no more secrets shall we? Let's trust each other!”
“Yes! Let's trust each other”, the boy agreed.
“I trusted you Geidrich. From that day on, I trusted you wholeheartedly. But what about you? You said we shouldn't have any secrets and yet this much was a lie in itself! If it was going to be this way from the start, it would have been better if you'd never spoken at all that time!”
Feeling crushed, abandoned, betrayed, Wiz stared at the three graves that lay before him, tears running on his cheeks. Sure enough, the perception filtre had collapsed the moment he knew the graves were there. In fact, he now realised that such a filtre existed over Geidrich's grave as well; he'd only been able to to find it because he knew it was there – or at least heavily suspected it.
Mirian Agres, 2929-2977 AF, was buried in the backyard of what had been his home for five years. He never noticed and no one ever told him. No one explained. No one had trusted him. He was alone. More than ever, he was alone.
His eyes wandered over the third grave. His eyebrows convulsed in shock. He had barely met the semblance she'd left behin. But to see that the woman he'd just been talking to was dead did not sit well with him.Bella Benyamina, 2946-2977 AF. She must have died on the same day as Mirian. When the council was betrayed by that man... Tetraprosopous. Wiz collapsed to his knees and finally broke down to sobs. Everything was so wrong. He couldn't take it, any more people dying. Was hope for humanity as vain as trying to hold sand in your hands? Would he eventually lose everyone he loved -or simply knew- like those grains of sand?
“With so much darkness in your past... Why didn't you tell me anything?!” he cried through sobs. “I can't take this. I just can't take this anymore. Why did you leave me? I can't do this alone!”
Bent over Bella's gravestone, Wiz continued to cry silently for some time. Thoughts of his parents followed those of his master and sobbing got more violent.
“You can't cry yet”, a voice suddenly whispered softly to his ear. Wiz shot up in surprise. The voice was feminine and one he didn't recognise. Although it'd sounded gentle, he couldn't ignore the fact that someone had tresspassed into the castle. He turned around to face the woman, but found no one. He frantically searched his surroundings; she couldn't have gone too far. Unless she used magic. On the last moment, he noticed a figure disappearing through the door that led back into the castle. Wiz ran after her.
Once inside again, he was barely in time to see her turn around the corner at the end of the hallway. He continued pursuit. As he followed her through the castle, the woman always disappeared behind cover just in time for him not to make her appearance out clearly, but strangely never did so before he could get a glimpse of her and where she was heading. It was like she was taunting him, a feeling strengthened by the fact he could sometimes hear melodic laughter coming from her direction. Eventually, the woman led him back to the area where the bedrooms were located. There, she finally stopped before a door -in fact the one next to Bella's room. Ardon got a better look at her now. He'd already noticed the blonde hair and yellow sundress, but not their details. She was rather on the short side. She had her back turned to him, so Wiz couldn't see her face. He tried to approach her, but then she faded and vanished with a final slightly eerie chuckle.
What was that? Feeling the magic in the air, he knew she hadn't teleported away or turned invisible, which left the very big question of what had really just happened? What did the woman even want after all? Why had she led him there? She'd stopped by that door. Did this mean she wanted him to go in? He opened the door -forcefully as there was an arcane lock on it, too- and came face to face with a sheet of utter darkness covering the doorway. Was the room itself pitch black or was it just the entrance? Wiz didn't know and he knew that meant danger, but the woman had led him there and he was curious both as to her reasons and the room's nature. He entered.
Immediately, he found himself deep under water. His blurred vision could only make out blue-coloured water all around him, but light seemed to be coming from above so he swam towards that. He had not taken a deep breath for this and found himself wanting to take a new one pretty soon. He steeled himself to continue despite that and thankfully he approached the surface before it got unbearable. Yet, as he did so he felt gravity turning around and suddenly he fell out of the water.
Bright stars were all around him. Looking up he could see, the water's surface forming a ceiling above him. It didn't make sense that it would stay up there if gravity had changed direction. Then again, it didn't make sense that there was any gravity in space. Or that he could breathe in it.
He continued falling through empty space until an orange floor appeared below him. Looking more closely at it, he realised it was made of flames. Wiz created a barrier around him to shield himself. He reached the flames. For a moment, he was engulfed in them and they danced around, licking at his barrier. Then, he'd passed them and was suddenly moving left instead of down. Spirals of flames revolved all around him in an infinite cylinder. The stars in the background were now far too bright and with a complete variery of colours -rich blues and reds, greens and purples, yellows and oranges- it looked like someone had hung gems in the sky. He was so busy examinig them, he didn't notice when a floor -one not made of flames this time- appeared under his feet. It was like a bridge through space, made of semi-translucent crystal that reflected the light of stars -or did it have light of its own? It reminded Wiz of the mythical Bifröst.
He rolled on the crystal, his momentum still taking him onward at great speed. Gradually, though, he slowed down and eventually came to a stop. And the woman sat before him on an impressive throne. She smiled mischievously at him and Wiz realised who she was. The blonde woman from the oil painting, the one that stood by Bella's side.
“You're one of the Enchanters!”
“Most people say hi first”.
“What is this place?”
“You're not one known for your politeness, are you?”
“It looks to me like Bifröst”.
“Ha! You know that? Well, I guess we did read out of the same library of obscure books”, the woman looked slightly surprised. “Yeah, it might look like what I made of Bifröst, but of course it isn't the rainbow bridge itself. No, this is actually my room”.
“Your room?”
“Oh hey, look! He actually listened to what I said for once”.
“You still live here? You've been here all this time?”
“I've been on and off. Don't like to stay bound in one place”.
“How come I never met you?”
“You did now. Which reminds me, we haven't properly introduced. I am Hylia the Yellow. And you are Wiz Ardon. I know that already. I've been keeping an eye on you”, she stood up and offered him her hand.
“You knew Geidrich then? And Bella and all the others”, Wiz didn't seem to register the offered hand.
“Oh yes, of course. Bella was my best friend after all”, Hylia's voice resonated as it was almost like her reflection on the crystal ceiling spoke with her. Had there always been reflections of theirs?
“Can you tell me about the Council?”
“Tell you what exactly?”
“Everything”.
“I'm afraid we wouldn't have the time for that. Isn't there anything more specific you want to know?”
“I don't know... Geidrich should have been the one to explain all of this, but he didn't. Why didn't he tell me? Why did he not trust me?”
“Oh poor love. He never did tell you, did he? Typical Geidrich. That man never faced his own feelings. Love, this doesn't have to do with you. I'm sure Geidrich trusted you. In fact, I can say without a doubt he loved you”.
“How can you say that? Don't you see that he kept the truth from me? That he even lied! He said this castle was his own. He never mentioned Mirian Agres!”
“Well, technically he did come to own it after Mirian passed away. But you see, young'un, it wasn't because Geidrich didn't trust you that he didn't tell you. This whole affair was very painful to him. Geidrich lost many of the people that were precious to him when... Tetraprosopous betrayed us. Even if they didn't die. And of them, Bella was very special to him”, while Hylia spoke Wiz was being distracted by their reflections. He couldn't tell what had actually happened, but he felt as if a subtle shift had occurred. They and their reflections seemed to have connected into single entities.
“Bella?”
“Geidrich was the one who taught her magic. They spent a lot of time together. And there might have been something more going on, if you know what I mean”, she said with mocking emphasis on the last words.
Geidrich and Bella... in that way? Somehow it felt wrong. Or at least weird. Of course, Geidrich was allowed to love someone, but he just couldn't picture it. This was an entire side of Geidrich he had never ment. But then it sunk in with him, how devastating Bella's death must have been.
“Geidrich didn't tell you, because it was too painful for him to talk about it, if you want my educated guess”.
Had he been wrong all this time, accusing his master? No! Geidrich still should have explained everything. But now he understood better. He felt more softly about him. He wasn't quite ready to let all his anger towards the enchanter dissipate, but sadness was overtaking him. Wiz felt sad for his master. For all that he had lost. He imagined Ellwen dying and the prospect itself nearly brought him to tears. And all of this had been the fault of one person...
“Who was this person, Tetraprosopous?”
“I'd rather not talk about him”, Hylia's face grew grim. “He wasn't who we thought he was. If the name Morgusor means anything to you, then you must understand what we were up against”, was Hylia speaking or her reflection? Or perhaps the Hylia below the crystal was the real one and the one above was the reflection.
“Morgusor”, Wiz mumbled to himself, but it felt more like the reflection was taking the initiative and he was imitating it. Or was his reflection the actual him? No. The reflection and him were one being and it was no reflection at all after all. Two Wizes connected to each other through a thin layer of water. When had the crystal floor been replaced by this infinite surface of troubled water?
Now,Hylia and he were below the water, while the ones above were revealed to be fake imitations. And sure enough, having been turned so that they were hanging upside down, nothing to really hold them, they started falling. Wiz looked to Hylia concerned and surprised, but she simply smiled enigmatically.
Soon the stars around them started fading and the black of space was gradually replaced by the blue of an atmosphere's clear sky. Ardon wondered whether they'd end up on the ground, but then they incomprehensibly landed on a cloud. Or perhaps a cloud land would be a more appropriate term, considering its size, extending forever on whatever direction he looked. Puffy shapes formed in places, breaking the monotony of the otherwise level cloud, but Wiz couldn't make any sense of them, if there was supposed to be any. The sun was setting below the cloud realm on the distance, colouring the sky and the concentrated vapors orange.
“Beautiful, isn't it?” Hylia asked.
Wiz enjoyed the soft breeze a short while “Is this really your room in the castle?”
“The very place”.
“Then, what kind of magic is this? It seems highly advanced”.
“Isn't it obvious already? Well, I'll tell you this. I am the Council's One and Only Grand Illusionist, Hylia the Yellow!”
“All of this is an illusion, then?”
“Yeah, I'm afraid so. You're disappointed it's not a real place? But don't worry. I tend to get inspired by the real world in my magic. Bella and I used to to read all sorts of books for inspiration”, a melancholic, nostalgic expression came over Hylia's face.
There was silence between the two of them for some time. They watched as the sun's rays painting on the clouds retreated from them. Wiz felt odd in the picturesque setting, as it was out of sync with his inner turmoil.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“It is because you have been avoiding what must be done. You came back to Geidrich Castle, but you have not established control over it. You remain foreign to it. You're still the apprentice, not the master. And you let challengers question your rights over it. You must drive away the challengers. Claim this castle. Claim the title of Enchanter. And be the man you're trying to be. Be the next Azure Enchanter!”
Claim Geidrich Castle... Be the next Azure Enchanter... He realised now he had indeed avoided that. It felt like trying to replace Geidrich. Like confirming he was gone. But he'd been wrong. If he ever was to become the Enchanter he wanted to be, he needed the castle's allegiance. He couldn't stay apprentice forever.
“Fine! I will do it. So, can you take me back?”
“Certainly. Though, if you are to leave so soon, I might ask that you come visit again”, Hylia said even as the world around them began to fade and blur.
“Perhaps”. Time running out, Wiz asked a final question ,“I still don't understand why we never met before or why Geidrich never mentioned you”.
“Maybe that was because I was never really here”, Hylia did not fade before everything else had and of her, the enigmatic, mischievous smile disappeared last.
Then, Wiz was alone. His blurry surroundings took shape and suddenly he was in the library. That was odd. Illusion magic wasn't supposed to transport one. Had he moved during the illusions? How had Hylia led him there? It was certainly an interesting kind of magic. He'd have to research it more thoroughly one day. But not today. Today, he was delving into Bella's magic instead.
Quickly, he found himself nearly buried under the piles of books on transfiguration he collected around him. Read, read, read. There was a lot to be found about the subject, written by many different hands. And yet...“This is ridicilous. Just a bunch of quite outright hogwash!” Wiz yelled in exasperation. “Wouldn't be surprised if none of this really worked!”The black cat entered the room, perhaps having been alerted to his presence by his shouting. She walked to Wiz and cozily curled up in a ball on his legs.
“Oh hi there! You're still here, aren't you? I suppose. I should thank you for showing me Bella's room. I guess you're not that bad. Hmm. I know! What you need right now is a name! Let's see... What's a good name for a cat...? Hmm. Oh! How about this? Felecity! It even starts with an F! What do you think?”
The cat did not stare at him in disapproval and instead chose to lick her paw.
“I'll take that as assent. Felecity it is then. So, Felecity, all those books are garbage. I might have to end up inventing something of my own for this. What do you think I should do?”
Paw-licking.
“Hmm. Yeah, you're right. Asking Bella's statue should certainly help. I should go d-”.
Suddenly, there was the loud bang of an explosion and slight vibrations reached Wiz.
“What the brick are they doing now?”
He made for the source of the sound, but there was a second explosion in the meantime. Wiz mumbled a few words of annoyance and continued up to the appropriate window. He looked out and sure enough he found the castle's personal adventurers carrying dynamites to break into the castle.
“What the brick are you doing? You're going to get yourselves killed!” Wiz shouted out to them.
“Don't worry, sir, we're experts”.
“You're going to wake a ghost or two with those! Don't you think you should be more careful with an enchanter's castle?”
“We don't fear no ghosts!”
Oh no! He would surely get them. He would get those bastards to leave soon. He had a plan. And no one would mess with him or this castle again.
Night fell and Wiz went to sleep, once again accompanied by Felecity. He wondered whether he would go to Faerië this time, too. Probably, if the pattern continued.
“Watch over me tonight, Felecity. Weird things might happen”.
The cat yawned.
He left it behind. He walked forward and left it behind. He couldn't even dare to look back. He felt as though looking back at it would turn him into a pillar of salt.It had been so important to him. But he couldn't even stand a glimpse in its desecrated state. He had completed his duty.Now, he couldn't be there anymore. He left the village. Left the buried people. He walked into the forest.
Into the forest, he didn't wander long. Soon, he lay down. Sleep came over him. Rain came over him. He was tired from the exertion of the day. He didn't move. He only shivered. Through the howling wind, he could hear their voices. The voices of the people calling for him. Calling his name. Wiz shut his ears and curled into a ball. He kept his eyes shut. But he could see them still. The grotesque burnt figures walking towards him, flames continuing to burn on them, turning them further into nightmarish monstrosities.He shivered more violently.
The night continued. He felt very uncomfortable. Even through the rain, he could feel himself sweating.He could feel his head burning up. He was getting a fever.A fever that would last him a week. Like that in the wilderness.But how did he know that? Had he lived this before...
He was back to the tower. The one from which he'd seen Geidrich die. It was night. It was unmistakably that night. He didn't dare look. He knew what was going to happen on the other tower. He looked away. He found Ellwen gazing at him.
“You must look, Wiz. If you don't, then you will not learn”.
“Learn what?”
“What you've been missing all this time. What you've known was there, but didn't look closely enough to remember”.
Hesitantly, Wiz turned around. Just in time to see Geidrich fall. What a terrible sight. Why did he have to see it again? But this wasn't what he was meant to see. His eyes turned to the assailor and met with his yellow ones. Those dreadful hateful eyes. But then he saw it! A pendant was hanging on the man's neck. And... oh no! Oh no, no, no! A crystal was attached to the pendant's chain, which had a symbol carved and coloured on it.A five-pointed star of black and bronze, with dark rays extending out of it. The same symbol he'd found on his home's door... The yellow-eyed man. Geidrich's murderer. Had killed his parents.
Wiz didn't even notice when he got to 'Faeri'ë. Something was wrong, though, because there now was discord in the melody playing the background, subtly making Wiz uneasy. Through the trees he could a storm was brewing in the distance. The prospect felt him with dread. He didn't want to get caught up in it. The downpour and gale-force winds would be something in themselves, but the idea of lightning striking any random tree around him was not appealing to him at all. He ran away from the darkness in his child body, but the more he did so, the closer it got. He had to act smart. He ran towards the storm... The storm got closer. He ran sideways. It got closer. What was with that? It wasn't fair!
How about this then? Up or down weren't choices and the rest of directions had proven fruitless. Therefore, all he could do was... try to move towards a seventh direction. Doing so, proved to do the trick. The storm was left behind, still there in the distance but more comfortably so. He walked for some time enjoying the scenery until he came to a clearing. A little pond was found in its centre, reflecting the moonlight and a fair elvenwoman was dancing under the stars. Wiz was pretty sure it had been day just now, because it was indeed the stars and moon shining upon the clearing.
The elf was clad in a blue and purple cloak and dress. Her golden hair and fair skin almost shone of their own affair or perhaps they mirrored the starlight. The jewel of the circlet on her forehead was like a star in itself. She was dancing a lively dance to the sound of the background melody, which was indeed louder than ever and different than what Wiz had ever heard. It had neither the hypnotising nor the disconcerting effects of the earlier ones. This was faster, more upbeat, more characterstic and personal. In fact, Wiz wondered whether the elfwoman was dancing to the music or the music followed her lead. Wiz was entranced and watched the woman for a long time. Then, coming to a stop she turned towards him with a faint smile.
Wiz went red, embarassed to have been found spying on the pretty woman.
“Why don't you come nearer?” she invitingly motioned with her hand.
Wiz hesitantly left the protection of the trees and approached. She smiled more brightly and took his hands.
“Let's dance!” she said and pulled him to whirl with her.
They started slow at first, but picked up speed as they went. Faster, faster! They span energetically, their arms outstretched; they tapped their feet on the ground and they clapped their hands; they jumped to the air and they got into the pond, splashing the water. Their laughter joined the music into a new melody.Wiz did not want it to end. But of course, like most things tend to, eventually it did.
Wiz and the elfwoman sat down, breathless after the vigorous exercise. It occurred to Wiz he didn't know what to call the lady.
“I never really asked your name”, he said.
“Don't you know this is a realm where one shouldn't give their name so freely?”
“Can I come see you again?”
“No”, the elfwoman worded herself simply.
“What? Why not?”
“There's a darkness within you. Until it can be cleared, you can never really be with me. It would only be a semblance of an acquaintance... Do you see this storm over yonder? You have been coming to this land these last three nights. This storm has been brewing for three days. Already, your presence has started affecting this forest. In the end, uncontrolled your darkness will mar anything you touch. So, you cannot see me again before you clear it”.
Wiz was a little scared to hear that, but he was a brave boy; he could handle any darknesses.
“I see. Then, can I just sit here with you a little longer. Just this once?”
“I don't have any objection to that”.
They kept a silence for a while after that. But it was fine. It was a wholesome silence. Wiz felt good being with that woman. He gazed at the night sky and lay his head on the lady's arm. He felt warm and protected in her presence. It was nice.
Eventually, the woman spoke first, “Wyramiere shines brightly today”.
Wiz was drawn from his wakeful slumber and looked at her and then the silver star she was pointing to. Indeed it was bright.
“Do you see these? Elemiere and Wyramiere twirling in the skies together? There were two lovers once, Figroth and Nailelin. But Nailelin was an Ith and Figroth had to lift to the sky and capture Elomar to earn her love. Yet, they say Elomar was Nailelin herself in fact. And when the two of them passed away, they returned to the sky together, the Golden and Silver Star of the Day and Twilight. Stars of lovers. You must follow them always and they will not lead you astray... But lately another star has been shining. Nalmiere, no. Theramiere. The Dark Star of Midnight. Be wary of it. I don't know how it may clash with the others. So, be careful Wiz Ardon.
“Now, you must go. It's time for you to return and face the problems of today. Are you ready?”
“Yes, I am”.
“Then, be on your way, my Peculiar Enchanter!” the elfwoman touched placed her hand on his face and he was blown back to reality.
A storm was gathering above the castle and the surrounding castle. He wondered where all the water had come from. Could it have come fromFaerië itself? Hard to know at this point.
He was standing by the battlements of the castle. That was a good place to be. He had already acquired Bella's advice and even some consideration on illusion magic the plan was nigh ready to begin. The final preparations could be performed there. And then he would do as Hylia and the elfwoman had instructed.
Last day, they had made no more progress than at first. Concentrating explosives in one point had failed to yield any results. That was why today they were going to attempt a different strategy. They were going to plant their recently acquired dynamites everywhere around the castle and then explode them all at once. Surely, this ought to do some damage.
It was not a good day for climbing up the steep walls of tall castles to place explosives on them. Dark clouds cast an ominous presence over the already eerie castle. The wind had picked up and its howling sounded like the sound of spooky otherwordly voices. If the rain started it would get all the more dangerous. However, Lynia had insisted that they go through the plan immediately. The tresspassers climbing up had every reason to be unnerved.
Larry placed one bundle of dynamites on the wall with one hand, using the special glue he'd been given. No further preparations were required, as the explosives came with special runes to be triggered remotely. With that over, he climbed further up. Scary though the height was, he was relieved to know he was almost to the top. In fact, his ascent was over after a few minutes when he got to the battlements. There, he proceeded to place the remaining explosives all around.
Larry was a normal guy. He wasn't afraid of ghosts more than the next fellow. He was just your average guy. But that also meant you wouldn't describe Larry as a generally intrepid person. He might not have been particularly scared of ghosts, but when one showed up right in front of him, he had every right to jump up in shock and scream in a high-pitched voice.
A skeletal old man stood before him. Long white hair grew out of his head and chin, flowing wildly in the wind, while the face in between was filled with wrinkles of semi-translucent skin. Glass eyes were staring emptily at him, the bushy eyebrows above them frowning. The man was wearing a cloak and robes that looked ancient, which hid his skins and bones of a body. The entire figure looked to be emitting a white-gray light and there was a transparency to it, too.
The old man raised an arm and pointed to Larry accusingly. He opened his mouth and coughed a puff of dust. “You... will... all... pay”, the ghost spoke with a gruff voice that sounded as if every word came out with immense difficulty.
“Please, don't kill me! It wasn't my fault!” Larry tried to run away, but he hadn't made a few steps when the ghost man was suddenly right before him. His hands clasped around Larry's neck, sending chills down his spine.
“No one will be spared!” the skeletal man spoke with less difficulty now.
Next thing he knew, Larry was launched into the air and fell from the battlements. The feeling of free-falling through the air was dreadful. Then, he landed on some weird sticky, gooey substance. It softened his landing, but soon he found there was more purpose in them.
Lynia was watching her men and women proceed with their mission -soon all would be ready for them to trigger the explosives and break through the castle's magical defenses- when a terrified scream pierced through the night.
“HEEEEELP MEEEEE! The ghost has trapped me! Geidrich's ghost is haunting us and he will kill us all!”
What was that? Geidrich's ghost? Lynia didn't know she had such paranoid men working under her. Nevertheless she made for where the scream had come from to see what had really happened. A few more people who heard had gathered round Larry, who was the one who'd caused the commotion. He was covered in some kind of black goo and couldn't get up. Two other minifigures were trying to pull him out, but all they ended up doing was fall and get stuck as well.
“...es, I saw him with my own eyes. A true ghost, as real as you and I”, Larry was telling someone. “He had flames for hair and snakes for arms and he threw me off the battlements!”
“Larry. It's a miracle, you didn't die in the fall, but are you sure you didn't hit your head in the proce-”, the man speaking was interrupted by a booming clap of thunder with the accompanying lightning striking far too closely for comfort.
“Oh man! What if it strikes us next?” someone said fearfully once the thunder quieted down.
“Don't worry, bro! Lightning doesn't strike the same place twice”.
“You idiot! Don't you know this is a myth?”
There was a second crack of lightning and as if to make a point, it struck on the same place for the second time. Meanwhile, the thunder clap sounded slightly exasperated as if it was trying to catch their attention last time and they'd ignored it. More worryingly, though, in the short flash of light, they noticed an unmistakable death-like figure, which subsquently disappeared.
“What was that?”
“Oh no! The ghost!”
“Lynia, did you see this?”
“So, there is a ghost?”
“Lynia, what do we do?”
Lynia had seen the skeletal man and it had given her a fright. However, she was not nearly ready to give up.
“We didn't come here to be thwarted by a mere ghost. The dead have no place meddling with the realm of the living. We'll continue normally and none of you need to worry. And someone find a way to get those people out of the goo!”
Lynia's underlings nodded, but did so shakily, not quite so sure themselves. Nonetheless, they heeded her commands and some left to fetch tools to cut through the goo.
It started raining. Some process was made with the goo using knives, but they had to clean them regularly. As they sawed away at the icky stuff, the wind blew into their ears and it was as if it was whispering ancient forbidden words of fear and destruction. Then, a voice, accompanied by a flash of lightning.
“YOU WERE GIVEN A CHANCE!”
Looking at the source of the light, Lynia found several of her underlings falling off the castle. Rainwater concentrated and froze them in place as they met the ground.
“YOU COULD HAVE FLED!”
The terrible thunder mixed with the dreadful voice. More people were jettisoned in the air and Lynia thought that must have been all of them. Screams around her revealed the rest of the guild members to be terrified. Someone called to flee.
“NO ONE WILL BE SPARED!”
Several objects flew in the air, coming from the castle. When they all exploded, they revealed themselves to be the dynamites. The smoke puffs of each connected into one shape and formed a malignant smiling face. The figure of an old man could be seen at the castle's roof. People all around were already running, some of them covered in black goo, others shaking thin shattered ice from their body.
“No! Don't run away! You can't give up now! Remember the treasure!”
No one listened to her. A series of lightning bolts -accompanied by deafening claps of thunder- blocking the way of some guild members set everyone further into a panic. Pandemonium was reigning over them, with everyone calling to others for help, instructing them to do otherwise than they were doing, praying to whatever they believed in and simply screaming at the top of their lungs. Lynia tried to call them to order but to no avail.
Green flames blazed up at the base of the castle and began to spread outwards in a quick manner. Even Lynia was scared now. If the flames got to her, she'd die. She had to leave. She turned around, but then looked over her shoulder for one last time, the long-lusted prize. A strange sight. The now formless cloud of smoke got in between a moment later, but she was sure of what she saw. Where the old man stood before, a young man with relatively shorter brown hair and beard replaced him now. The man who'd entered the castle. His eyebrows frowned into a stern expression. His eyes staring right at her. Right through her. The sight left the woman trembling with fear unlike whatever she'd felt before. She fled.
The storm was over. Literally and metaphorically. After successfully driving away the bandits, Wiz returned to the entrance hall of the castle. He had already chalked an intricate symbol on the centre of the floor. It was a five pointed star, fractalised, so that more stars were drawn at its points and so on. A circle was drawn all around and then some ancient letters were scribbled inside the design.
“Fine, Hylia”, Wiz talked to himself. “I will claim this castle for my own. But I will not be the Azure Enchanter. I will be Wiz Ardon the Peculiar!”
The yellow-eyed man. Now, he know. Geidrich had been murdered. It'd been him. His parents and the entire Burkborrow had been murdered. It'd been him. He even had the audacity to visit Doloren when he and Ellwen were there and insult them. In fact, it'd probably been right after that he destroyed Burkborrow. Wiz hated him. He hated him with all his being. For the sake of those who he'd already lost. And for the sake of those he could save. He promised himself he would stop that man. But before he could do that, there were other things lying in wait. This castle and his training. The castle should answer to him. His magic should become his own. He'd managed some amazing magic today. But that was only the tip of the iceberg. Today, a long journey began.
Felecity came around to watch. Wiz smiled to her and then knelt on the chalked circle. He placed his hands and fed magic into it. The complicated pentagram glowed with a silver light.
“Geidrich Castle. Heed my commands! From Agres to Mirian, from Mirian to Geidrich and from Geidrich to me. Flow the magic of this ancestry to me and pledge your allegiance to me. I, Geidrich's apprentice and one true heir, claim you!”
The light grew brighter and then it went out. The magic circle was gone. Felecity's hairs had shot up. Wiz got up and examined the castle anew. He could feel it. He saw the castle in an entirely new light and the castle saw him differently, too. He was no longer the apprentice, he was now the master. And the stones in the walls, the wood and metal in the doors, the lamps and torches, the chairs and tables, the beds and wardrobes, the books and bookshelves, everything in this castle exclaimed in jubilation and celebration of its new master. Wiz could feel into the castle now and deep into all the directions towards the corners and the edges. And he sensed the castle turning from a derelict ruin into a lively home ready to host life anew. Everything had changed now and the castle was his.
It was over. Now, he could really start. He was alone again.
And then the tears released. . .
Category:Stories by fffffplayer1
Category:The Additional Manuscripts
Category:Stories