The Tower of Sorcery

by James Galloway

  Tarrin chuckled in spite of himself. "Until I hear it about three hundred times, I think I will," he admitted.

  "Trust me. You'll know it by heart by the end of the day," she winked.

  Tarrin actually laughed. "I take it I'm in for a very long day?"

  "Everyone in my class will be," she grinned. "I have a reputation to maintain, after all, so I have to make a very memorable first impression."

  "I'd better warn Allia," he chuckled. "And you'd better not annoy her until after I have a chance to explain things to her. She's even more direct than I am."

  "I'll remember," she promised. "Just don't tell her about me."

  "I'll figure out a way to explain it," he told her.

  At sunrise, there were eight young men and women standing outside Master Brel's office. Tarrin had spent the time eating and waiting thinking about the strange encounter, with the whirlwind creature. Not three days after he returned, another attempt was made on him. He had no doubt that it was an attempt. No doubt that going into the chamber and facing what looked like Jesmind would have meant his death. It was yet another strange magical creature, something which he had no idea what it was. He'd have to ask Dolanna, when he next saw her. Dolanna's knowledge of magical beasties was very impressive.

  Allia was there, and there were four others, two young men and two young women, all of them highly born, from the looks on their faces. Two in particular, a young man and young woman, looked noble to their fingertips, and the hot looks they passed at each other, an open animosity that bordered on rage, sizzled the air between them. The other young man looked like a Dal, and the swallow-necked young lady with her black-black hair and wide blue eyes was most defintely Shacèan. No doubt that the two glaring at each other were nobles whose houses were at odds with one another. The other young man and lady were staying pretty well back from those two, but keeping them between themselves and Tarrin and Allia. From the looks of them, the two glarers were either Sulasian, Draconian, or Tykarthian. The three nations' peoples looked much alike. Tarrin joined Allia with a smile and an outreached paw, which was taken by his blood sister. She looked striking in his red Initiate uniform, a strange color on her after seeing her wear nothing but white since he knew her. She'd even had her silver hair trimmed and neatened from its long, ragged appearance for the occasion. "How did you sleep last night, sister" Tarrin asked.

  "Well, but I felt lost within that large bed," Allia said. "I thought the beds of the Novices were soft. I fear I may grow used to your wetlander comforts."

  "Maybe in another lifetime, deshaida," Tarrin told her with a smile.

  He was about to say something else, but Keritanima came around the corner, looking quite regal and splendid. The signs of her recent dunking had been totally removed. Her fur was soft and silky and properly brushed, her long auburn hair was done up into a coronet atop her head, one made of beaten gold and set with a rainbow of assorted jewels, tumbling down her back and over her shoulders in carefully arranged waves and curls. Her Initiate dress was of the standard cut and form, but it was made of the finest silk, and had lace at the sleeves and at the throat. The look on her face was more imperious than regal, the look of a self-centered brat who knew the power she held. Tarrin had to admit, she played her part perfectly. Had he not known better, he would have been totally convinced. In fact, he had been, until he caught her in her lie. She looked every inch a princess.

  "That reminds me," Tarrin whispered to Allia in Selani. "Don't pay any attention to the Wikuni or her antics. Just ignore her. I already warned her to leave you alone. I'll explain later, when we have time to talk."

  "I will," she promised with a faint nod, and a calm look at the Wikuni. Tarrin glanced at Keritanima and gave her a faint nod, which she acknowledged with a slight movement of her eyes.

  Keritanima did not disappoint. First, she went off on the tall noble boy that had been giving hot looks to the young lady, dressing him up then down, and calling him about fifty types of scoundrel and ruffian. All because he didn't offer to kiss her ring. Then she bored into the young lady for not curtsying quite deep enough after Keritanima had demanded, in an ear-grating voice, to be afforded the respect due to her station. She invented several new terms of disrespect on the spot when the noble boy politely told her she was being too loud, then she actually slapped the other young man, whom Tarrin did not know, that had been standing on the other side of the young lady and young man that had been looking daggers at each other. For no reason Tarrin could fathom. When he gave her a hot look, she reminded him that she was the Crown Princess, and that if he so much as thought about laying a hand on her, Daddy's Royal Marines, two hundred of whom were now garrisonned on the Tower grounds as part of the agreement between Wikuna and the Keeper, would find him and use him as a target dummy.

  Tarrin had trouble trying not to laugh. Her mind was fluent, and her acting was quite impressive. She flowed from one irritating state to another, cajoling, commanding, making snide comments, throwing barbs and darts at the assembled Initiates that rolled from her maw with ceaseless frequency, or demanding compliments on her great beauty, or her pretty coronet, or commenting on the rarity of value of the silk in her dress. In mere moments, all four of the other Initiates looked ready to kill her. Allia gave her flat, challenging looks, looks that cowed Keritanima every time she seemed to want to approach. Tarrin, remembering that he didn't like the Wikuni in public, affixed her with similar flat stares, and those kept her on the far side of the gathering. When Brel appeared around the far corner, Tarrin thought that the other four would rush forward and kiss the hem of the man's robe in gratitude.

  "Hhhrumph," he grumbled, "well now, it looks like all of you are ready. Follow me. And keep quiet." They followed the withered old man out of the North Tower and back to the main Tower. They ended up in a small chamber near the Novice quarters, that had ten chairs arranged to face a point in the front of the room. Brel left them there with commands for them to sit and wait. Tarrin chose a seat near the back, giving the chair a bit of a wary look. It had a solid back and no padding, and chairs like that gave him nowhere to put his tail. He turned the chair around and straddled it, folding his arms on the back of the chair and leaning into them. Keritanima, not wanting to be outdone by a chair, left immediately after Brel, and Tarrin could hear her voice piercing the rock as she demanded a split-back chair with lots of cushions, and refreshment. Tarrin thought she would have demanded someone to fan her, if she thought she could get away with it.

  "I may end up killing that, creature," Allia said quietly.

  "Just ignore her," Tarrin told her. "She won't bother you directly."

  "She's bothering me indirectly," she grunted.

  "May be, but you'll understand later. Let's meet after we get out of here, by the statue. We need to talk."

  Allia nodded, and Keritanima returned, a smug look on her face. A minute later, a split-back chair was brought into the room, but no cushion. She berated the servant over the slight for several moments, then seated herself regally on the chair, her tail threading the space between the slats in the back of the chair. There was low talk, talk of expectations and wondering at what would happen this first day, and Tarrin joined in it mentally. He had no idea what would be done this day, the first day of the Initiate, and his mind went over the possibilities as they waited for whatever it was to happen.

  The door opened, and the thin form of Sevren entered the room. He looked just as Tarrin had remembered, tall and thin with those wire-frame spectacles over his eyes, dark hair speckled with gray, cut short, and that same type of brown robe with the leather belt. It seemed no surprise to Tarrin that Sevren was the instructor. He was one of only two Sorcerers Tarrin knew well, and trusted. He had no doubt that the Keeper had put Sevren into the job to keep Tarrin at ease, and in a way, he did not mind at all. Tarrin's suspicions of the Tower made him wary of the people who lived within it. Sevren was one of the two exceptions.

  "Good morning, Initiates," he said in hi
s calm, pleasant voice.

  "Good morning," they said in unison, except for Allia and Keritanima.

  "My name is Master Sevren, and I'll be teaching you your first day's lesson. I have no doubt that all of you are wildly curious about what we will do today, and what you will be doing for the next few years." Keritanima's eyes narrowed at his use of the word years. "That is what today's lesson will be about. A tour of the parts of the Tower we use for instructing Initiates in the use of Sorcery, an oveview of what will happen in the next month, and a little bit of historical lecture, so you will know where the katzh-dashi came from, and where we hope to go in the future. Because it's early yet, we'll take care of that right now."

  "The Katzh-Dashi are a very ancient group," he began, raising a hand and conjuring forth an Illusion before him. It was a two-dimensional illusion, a simple image like a portrait, but drawn on air rather than canvas. The image conjured by the illusion was the Tower itself, without the six surrounding Towers. "They have occupied this land for nearly seven thousand years. Most of what happened in such distant past is lost to us, but we do know that even then the katzh-dashi performed tasks that gave us our name. If you didn't know, katzh-dashi means "servants of man" in the Ancient Tongue."

  "Servant?" the young lady who'd been glaring at the man said in a hot tone. "I am nobody's servant!"

  "We all serve, Milina," he told her cooly. "You serve your father by being here. I serve the Keeper by teaching you. The Keeper serves the needs of those she commands with her decisions. We all serve. It was always the goal of the katzh-dashi to serve mankind by using our magical powers for man's benefit. Anyway," he said adjusting the spectacles over his eyes, "for thousands of years, we did just that. We served. The city of Suld developed around the Tower of Sorcery, and over the years, grew to its current size and position of one of the largest cities in the West. I'll not go into the specifics during this time, a time we call the Age of Power. You'll get the specifics at a later date. What you need to know is that, at that time, the Ancients and the Sha'Kar worked harmoniously towards some unkown goal, and served man when not actively working towards it."

  "What goal, Masster Sevren?" the blond young man asked.

  "We don't know, Kev," he sighed. "The records of what the Ancients were working on were lost in the Breaking."

  "Who were the Sha'Kar?" Keritanima asked idly, examing her short, sharp claws.

  "Again, we don't know," he answered. "All we know is that they were a Non-human race who were very powerful in the Gift. The entire race vanished during the Breaking."

  "Well, what is this Breaking you keep talking about?" Keritanima asked.

  "It is the darkest hour of our history," he replied soberly, and the illusion changed to a large group of people standing outside the Tower gates. "It happened exactly two thousand, one hundred and twelve years ago."

  "Ah, that. We call it the Year of Chaos," Keritanima said in a disintered voice.

  "Different cultures would have different names for it, but they are the same," he said calmly. "Anyway, it was the end of what many call the Age of Power. Back during that time, magic was a commonplace thing. Many practiced it, and many more had created items of magical power to perform tasks. Even the most dullard farmhand had the magical aptitude to cast minor enchantments and cantrips, if he studied the proper magical words. Perhaps it was this commonality that created the Breaking," he speculated with a sigh. "Anyway, to make it short, since most of you probably know many stories about it, the Weave was ripped. We still don't know how or why it happened. Most scholars think that the magical pressures placed on it by the peoples of the world had torn it, and the backlash caused almost all of those magical objects to explode, almost all at the exact same time. Since those magical treasures were owned mostly by the rich and those versed in magic, it killed most of the important people in the world. Kings, Emperors, powerful Wizards, rich merchants, nobles, many of them were killed by the disaster. The sudden power vacuums in each kingdom caused chaos as wars erupted over succession. It was a ghastly time," he sighed. "What was probably worse than this was that it killed almost everyone with knowledge of Magic. There was a void of magical power in mere seconds."

  "What about Sorcery?" the dark-haired girl asked.

  "Well, that is itself a mystery," he told her. "After the initial explosions, some courtier rushed to the Tower to seek aid for the wounded king, and he found nothing. The Towers, all seven of them, were totally, completely empty. Even the furniture was gone. The Ancients, our forebearers, had vanished like smoke in the Breaking. To this day, we have no idea what happened. Whether they all died, or simply foresaw what was coming, and removed themselves. If so, we don't understand why they didn't come back after the backlash had finished.

  "This disappearance caused problems," Sevren sighed, pointing at the illusion. "The people of Suld believed that the Sorcerers were responsible for the cataclysmic accident. We still take blame for it, even though we honestly don't know if the Ancients caused the Breaking or not. There simply is no evidence left behind. Anyway, because of this, the Tower was attacked by a mob of Sulasians seeking vengance by trying to tear the Tower down. But the magic that had raised the Tower was still strong, and they couldn't so much as scratch the stones. After that, the new King, taking the place of the prior one who had died of his wounds, declared all Sorcerers to be enemies of Sulasia, and they were to be killed on sight. The Tower was considered to be cursed by most, and it was abandoned to fall to ruin."

  He removed his spectacles and cleaned a lens on his robe. "I don't need to describe the next few hundred years to you. I'm sure all of you have heard the stories." Tarrin had indeed. Almost one hundred years of war, famine, and chaos, where kingdoms rose and fell by the year. "But things settled down, as things had to. But the loss of the many Mages and Priests, killed by their own magical objects, left a void in our culture that took almost a thousand years to replace. As to the Sorcerers, well, anyone who displayed talent in Sorcery was branded a witch, and was either killed or driven out. The Priesthoods of many kingdoms actively hunted down Sorcerers, killing them wherever they could find them, and especially the priesthood of Karas, the patron god of Sulasia. In one particularly heinous act, the Crusaders, a militant arm of the Church, sacked and destroyed what is now Jerinhold, but was then a small village called Bluewaters. They slaughtered everyone in the village when they failed to hand over a suspected witch, who wasn't even in the village. The order of Karas was not the only one to commit such atrocities.

  "The Gods, who had not noticed these events, suddenly stood up and took notice. Karas especially was very unhappy with the conduct of his priests and their place in the whole business. He stripped them of their magical power for a period of one hundred years. And in that time, Sulasia lost half of its lands to surrounding kingdoms in constant wars. But Sulasia survived, if somewhat smaller."

  The illusion changed again, showing the face of a young man. He was handsome, a bit weary in the eyes, with long brown hair and a small scar over a thin-lipped mouth. "For a thousand years, not a single Sorcerer had stood on the Tower grounds. What few of us there were were called witches, and were hunted down and killed. But there were a few who managed to persevere, to find others with the Gift and teach them, and we continued. But it was a dangerous life. That changed when Marek the One was born. He came into his power late, as we measure things, well after he'd started a life as a caravan guard. He managed to teach himself once he understood what he was, using some scraps of books left over from the Age of Power. He came to Suld in his travels, saw the Tower, and stood for hours lost in its beauty. He claims in his writings that he heard a gentle voice calling to him, a voice he could not deny. It convinced him to come into the Tower, and he did so. Marek claimed the Tower of Sorcery as his own. Of course, nobody really noticed this. Nobody came onto the Tower grounds, because the people of Suld thought that the grounds were cursed. He was only the first, for more began to show up at the Tower gates, young men an
d women, all drawn here by some strange, mysterious voice. That, of course, was the voice of the Goddess, calling her new children to their home, just as it drew Marek. They were all Gifted to some degree or another, and almost by general consent, they organized themselves into the new katzh-dashi. Marek was named the first Keeper of the Key, or the Keeper, and they started on a quest of recovering the knowledge that was lost when the Ancients vanished from the world. A quest that we still pursue to this day."

  "How much have you gotten back?" the dark-haired young man asked.

  "Not even a fraction of what the Ancients knew," he sighed. "It was written in books from that time that the Ancients could move mountains, turn aside the sea, and even stop the moons in their places if they had a need for it. We think that this is exaggeration, but there has to be some kernel of truth to it. The Ancients were very powerful. We've found stories of how the Tower was drawn forth from the very rock beneath us by magic, and shaped into the form we see today. It has stood against the elements for over five thousand years." Tarrin wasn't the only one to blink. The Tower, the main building, anyway, looked like it was built weeks ago. "Yes, it doesn't look like it, does it? Amazing eye for architecture, the Ancients," Sevren chuckled. "The Ancients raised the other six towers not long before the Breaking, to create more room. They were very crowded, it seems. All of the other buildings on the grounds were built since we reclaimed the Tower." He chuckled. "Not long after this, the people of Suld realized what had happened, and they were very afraid. After all, it had been a thousand years since a Sorcerer had stood on this ground, and the people of Suld believed that the Ancients had caused the Breaking, and they still considered Sorcerers to be agents of evil. The stories of that time had evolved over the years into fanciful tales and myths. Anyway, it didn't take long for the priests of Karas, seeing their old enemies arise from the ashes, to try to put a stop to it. So they quickly incited civic unrest over the Sorcerers, and led a mob to the gates. But the katzh-dashi had no intentions of moving. They met them at the gates and demanded to see the King."