The Ancients

by Adam-Clay Webb

  ***

  Twenty-Two Years Prior

  It was a perfect picture. Mother, father and little son sat around the large dinner table, which was well decked out with more food than they could possible consume for the night. The glamourous windows wore a dainty light formed by the red-orange glow of the fireplace and the silver-blue radiance of the moon. Looking up at the roof always made the boy slightly nervous, as it seemed there was an infinite space between himself and the high wooden roof made with a complex lattice that made rigid and patterned shadows.

  With an absent mind, he appeased his parents with dinner conversation. They would ask the same questions and say the same things every night. How was school today? What did you have for lunch? And whatever else. He was by now so skilled at lying that he could tell them about his made-up day in detail without flinching. In reality, after the second week of school, he went to school quite infrequently. And the reason that he went to school any at all was to keep in touch with a very interesting friend.

  Most boys his age would kill their best friend to get into the school he was in. There were others schools, but none of this kind. This school was created by the Ogal Council almost a century before. It was an initiative to ensure that the Council would always have suitable candidates to choose from. No more than 1000 students were allowed to attend the school at any point. Only the children of the most affluent, most respectable citizens would be able to attend, and of course, they had to be sorcerers.

  But school made no sense to him. The school was more about the adoration of Oga and the preservation of the Council than it was about schooling. They would have tedious sessions of worship and prayer. Of course, being created by the Council, the school was as religious as it was educational. Also, he would find holes and flaws in almost every theory and piece of history that his teachers would put forth, and whenever he asked questions, their answers, while making sense to the oblivious children in the class, were just babbles of nonsense to him. It was all frustrating. But his days were far from wasted. There was somewhere that he went to fill his needs, and as soon as he finished his dinner and was tucked into bed, he snuck out of bed and rode off into the night to get there.

  He rode for two straight hours until the big houses and pretty lawns were far behind. He had reached a poor village, where there were few streetlamps, and the houses were small and far apart. The refined road fingered off into snaky lanes, lanes so narrow that the silver due on the high grasses on either side would wet his shoes and make him uncomfortable. The place felt awfully eerie, but before the boy’s sense of fear could overtake him, he kicked his horse to move faster until his destination was in sight. His horse slowed as it reached to a ground it was quite familiar with. Wild bushes grew profusely, almost totally hiding a house that was more isolated than any other.

  He jumped down from the horse and ran toward the door. As soon as he got to the door, it opened before him. Emerged from the quiet glow of candles was a short man with dark grey hair that grew madly from his head and almost hid his face completely.

  “Jin!” the boy greeted gladly, hugging the man, who was now laughing.

  “Vis, you’re finally here, boy!” the man greeted back. The entire house was a single room. There were two small shacks to the back of the house, at extreme sides. Food was made in one and gotten rid of in the other. Vis quickly grabbed the cushioned chair he had claimed from the first day he entered Jin’s house.

  It was a chance encounter that led the two to meet, or probably fate had orchestrated it. It was an unusually hot day at school, and Vis had slipped out of the class while the teacher turned her back for a short moment. Totally uninterested in what she was saying, he didn’t hesitate to make his escape. Furthermore, he had asked her a question and she had failed to provide a satisfying answer, so the boy was immediately annoyed of her. School had made Vis quite irascible. He managed to escape the security guards and jump a few fences, getting off the massive compound in a matter of a minute. He would linger by a small brook about a half a mile from the school until it was time for lunch. Then, before he was missed to the point of getting into trouble, he would sneak back onto the compound.

  But as he went by the brook, he saw a carriage there. Without prudence, he jumped into the back of the carriage, which was only headed by a single horse. The carriage was carpeted with hay, and there were about a dozen barrels in it. The boy, being tired, went behind the barrels and lay down. He drifted off into sleep and had an interesting dream. His dreams were always elaborate, and he always remembered every moment of them.

  This time, he dreamed that he was in a meeting with a council of gods, each god representing a world; he was there as earth’s representative. He was adamantly lobbying to the council to get earth a purple sky, as the dwellers of his world were tired of seeing the same old blue sky every day. But before the council could make their decision, the boy was harshly woken up by an angry, almost panicking man.

  The man who owned the carriage was delivering barrels of what was most likely water to Jin’s house, and while unpacking, the sleeping boy frightened the man. But while the babbling man was cursing at the boy, the old man laughed.

  “Boy, help us move the barrels!” Jin said, and Vis, confused and frightened, said or asked nothing, but helped the men take the barrels into a shack behind the house; the kitchen. After that, Jin paid the carrier and assured him that the boy would be alright.

  Jin invited the boy inside. On entering the little house, Vis’ eyes bulged and his heart raced. The place was crammed with scrolls and books and maps and chests. He looked around wildly, then, he quickly moved about, checking the writings and drawings, as if he wanted to eat up all the knowledge within the moment.

  “Who are you?” Vis finally asked. “Where did you get all these books?” Even though Vis was a student of the most accredited school in the world, he rarely got to see, let alone read books. Books and scrolls were rare, and yet this old man seemed to have an endless supply.

  “What is it that you really want to know?” the man asked.

  Vis thought for a moment, and then, somehow certain that the man could fulfil his request, he answered, “Everything.”

  That day, Jin walked Vis back to school. The journey took almost three hours, but to Vis, it was only a short moment. In those three hours, the boy learnt more than he had at school since the term had started. Jin explained to him that he was one of the few men in the world who knew real truth. The old man claimed to be the last ‘true oracle’, and since that day, Vis became his secret disciple. Every chance he got, he would visit Jin, and Jin would teach him about history, magic, science, medicine, and all manner of things. Vis soon learnt that every book and scroll in Jin’s possession was authored by him. Jin told Vis that when he slept, the events of the past would come to him in dreams. He, the oracle, was fate’s way of keeping the flame of truth alive, through every attempt to stifle it completely.

  Although all this was incredible, Vis believed everything the old man said with absoluteness. He had become convinced that almost everything that was being taught at his school was untruth, lies created by Kizer and Oga. Jin and Vis, in all the world, were the only men who knew the truth that Kizer and Oga had erased from the minds of everyone.

  That night, before Jin began to teach Vis anything, he asked, “How is your friend doing? I think you should search for him and bring him to me.” The old man sounded quite serious, as if he had been thinking about this for much time. Well, there must have been serious thought behind an utterance like that, as Jin had warned Vis quite sternly that no one should know about the existence of this last oracle. If the Council, if any civil authority got wind of this old man who claims to know truth that goes against what is known to be the Ogal precepts and doctrine, the result would be disastrous. They would undoubtedly find Jin and get rid of him, and seize all of his literature.

  Jin’s question was met with ambivalence from the boy. While he was happy that was Jin was intereste
d in knowing about his only friend from school, he didn’t welcome the idea of Jin getting too interested in this friend. Vis was Jin’s one and only disciple, the only one who received his attention, the only one to be shown the ways of truth, and told the secrets of time that were lost to the rest of the world. And the boy wanted to keep it that way.

  It was a little over seven months before that Vis had met this friend of his. Throughout the first term of school, which lasted six months, Vis had taken no interest, no liking to anyone there. The entire population was too absorbed in ignorance and worship, and the whole environment was depressing to him. Even those students who were quite powerful, reaching the fourth grade of magic, could not impress him. Vis was at the third grade – his magic was stronger than most of the students his age, but he wasn’t close to being the strongest in the school. Then again, Vis had absolutely no interest in joining the ranks of the strong. He only used his magic for one thing – to acquire knowledge. The only magical technique that he really wanted to learn was the spaceshift, as he could then reach to Jin within a moment instead of riding for hours.

  Even though Vis could not compete against many of his seniors in school in a fight, his mind was by far the most refined, most perceptive amongst all the students there, and even amongst the teachers. With a simple glance, he could accurately perceive the level of one’s magic. Not only that, but he could somehow see, in that one glance, every technique that a magician had leant, and to what level they had learnt them. His mind was at a level above even most arcanines.

  But then there was this one boy who managed to make Vis’ brows furrow. In the crowd of some close to 300 freshmen, Vis immediately noticed something peculiar about one boy. He had observed the boy sitting under a tree at lunch one day, a tree that was some distance from anyone else. While the other freshmen were frolicking about, he sat there by himself, looking down into a book. Books weren’t very common, but this was not what intrigued Vis. Vis sat on a bench, ignoring the other boys who were eating beside him. Peering over to the freshman, who was dressed fully in white, as was his custom, he determined that he was not reading, as a page had not been turned in several minutes.

  But Vis noticed something even stranger. He could sense no magic whatsoever within this boy. Vis wondered what could have been the meaning of this. The single most important criterion for being a student at this school was the ability to use magic. How then was it that this boy was not a magician? Vis felt a tight grip around his heart as the boy’s eyes were cast to meet his. As their eyes met over the distance, the noise of the school fell silent. Vis saw, in the boy’s dark eyes, a coldness that was beyond anything he had ever seen. Vis, with his uniquely brilliant mind and deep-seeing eyes, could not see the depths of the hatred in this boy’s eyes. It seemed to be without limit. Vis’ heart raced, as if making up for the stopping it had done earlier. His body shivered. He felt the tension lighten as the boy cast his eyes back down into the book.

  Since that day, looking out for this strange boy became a part of Vis’ routine. Vis had already alienated himself from the other students. Since seeing this boy, he became even more estranged. For days, the two would exchange tense glances. Vis would try to decipher the boy’s level of magic, and also what that darkness in his eyes was all about. Everyone else proved to be quite easy to figure out. But this boy… well, it wouldn’t take too long before Vis would figure out something quite interesting about him.

  In the fifth week of each term, the most elaborate and most important ceremony of worship was done. The entire school would make a pilgrimage to the holy Mount Oga. The journey would take them three whole days to make, as they had to walk the entire distance. This tiresome walking represented the sacrifice they were willing to make in order to uphold the name of Oga. The schoolteachers would lead the setting up of tents in the nights and the senior students would build campfires and keep watch while the others slept. Vis noticed that this boy, whose name he still did not know, was quite uneasy throughout the journey, and did not sleep or eat at all, and on this tedious journey that took them over rivers and hills, sleep and food proved to be quite friendly. His uneasiness was not the same excitement and jitteriness that the freshmen generally possessed. It was something else, but what it was Vis could not quite put his finger on.

  The third day finally came, when the students would reach their destination. Finally in sight, on a green hill, was a circle of statues that seemed small from where the watchers were. Fingers pointed up on the hill and gazing eyes brightened. The hill named Mount Oga was finally sight, the place where many believed Oga’s body rested, and his presence resided. The teachers warned the students sternly to approach the hill with reverence and silence, and told them to pray in their hearts to Oga so that they would not be turned to ashes. It was said that those who were not permitted by Oga to climb the holy hill were turned to ashes by Oga’s presence.

  The nervous students climbed up the hill, and on their teachers’ instructions, gathered into a wide semicircle around the statues. Those closest to the statues were still many meters away. Of course, if they went too close to the statues, they would immediately fall dead. As the principal raised his hand and looked around, all muttering seized.

  “Students of the Holy School, where you stand is the holiest ground on this world! Very few have been blessed with the chance to see the holy statues. As you stand here, your lives are touched with the presence of God, and you are forever blessed, and set above those who have never stepped on this ground! Touching this ground is a vow to dedicate your lives to the service of Oga! If you, from this moment, in any way deviate from the will of God, a curse will come upon you! And your death will be miserable, and after your miserable death, you will be cast into a furnace to burn eternally!”

  As the big-bodied man in white robes spat his convincing nonsense, Vis fixed his attention on the same boy who had pretended to read. The feeling of uneasiness had now evolved into shivering and sweating, and the boy’s eyes were now dilated. Vis wondered if the boy was going to fall over and die. It seemed he was struggling to stay alive. Vis who was standing close to his teacher, touched her desperately.

  “Vis, what is it?” she whispered, looking at him.

  “That boy,” Vis said, “he is sick. It could be the crowd or the heat. He seems anxious and terribly ill,” Vis said, pointing over to the boy. The woman looked across and immediately realized that something was wrong.

  “It’s fine,” she said, “just pay attention.” And that was that. She could not bring herself to interrupt the opening ceremony of such an important worship session.

  Vis hissed in annoyance. He could not afford for this boy, the only interesting person in the entire school, to just fall down and die.

  “And now, to show your submission to God, we will kneel and bow before Oga!” the principal announced. At that, there was the uniformed movement as everyone lowered themselves. Vis too was on his knees and bowing – not as an act of worship of course, but he didn’t want to stand out and make a scene. Of course, not bowing down would be met with serious consequences.

  Vis gasped as he noticed that one boy had not complied with the principal’s command. Standing bravely with tightened fists and hatred in his eyes was the same boy. Vis immediately began to fret. For such defiance, it would be no surprise if death was the penalty. This boy was outrightly making a stance against not the principal, or the school, or the Holy Council, but against Oga, against God!

  Vis shook and his forehead wrinkled. This boy, who had shown no sign of being a wizard, was now giving off an aura that Vis had rarely ever seen. “What in the world…” Vis whispered as he sensed the power of black magic from the boy. All along… he was somehow concealing his magic. This frightened Vis. Vis somehow had the ability to sense the magic of anyone without fail, without effort. Somehow, this boy was able to mask his magic perfectly. But now, whatever seal he had put over his power had become weak. His mana was not roused to the extent whereby the teachers co
uld sense it, but Vis could now see it clearly – that this boy was an arcanine. Another thing was clear. The hatred in his eyes was somehow toward Oga.

  Chapter 19: The Two

  As the arcane freshman stood boldly amongst the sea of bowing bodies, Vis stared on with emotions he had never before felt. His teeth were clenched tightly. He felt a sharp disgust for himself. There he was, bowing like the ignorant fools, appeasing, while this younger boy was able to stand, notwithstanding what this decision would cost him. This boy, like Vis, obviously did not see Oga as God, or even good. Vis’ disgust, in an instant, was an anger he battled to contain. He cursed himself. Knowing more truth that even this boy could have known, he should have been the one standing. But even then, he felt the need to protect this boy from what would become of the stance he was making. Yes, this boy had somehow unlocked the final attainable grade of magic, but even so, how would he stand against the Ogal Council, which would most certainly get involved if something was not quickly done to abate the situation?

  Before anyone of such could realize what was happening, Vis performed a nifty spell that he had learnt just weeks before. “Khajil Mandra,” he whispered, his left palm flat on the ground. Immediately, a thick fog emerged from the ground, covering the whole mountain, creating a smokescreen that obscured the visibility of everyone.

  “Everyone, stay calm!” the principal’s voice pierced the heavy mist as panic began. The boy who had stood felt a sturdy grip on his arm. He struggled, barely catching his balance, running behind Vis, who was dragging him down the hill. Vis pushed the boy against a boulder, gripping his neck firmly. Through the mist, the boy stared at Vis with wide eyes. As his senses recovered, he pushed Vis off strongly.

  “You have mere moments in which to spare your life!” Vis warned him.

  “Who--”